Pretty Lies and Their Brutal Truths
by seasaltmemories
Summary: Whatever warm feelings Celica had towards him shriveled up in a flash. He was not simply a bystander in this disgusting war, but the person who had planned it from the start. And according to father's news this morning, he was also her fiance.
1. Resentment

"Fine garden isn't it?"

Celica looked up to see a man had joined her side while she had been musing to herself. No man was too strong a word. He was not a child, but still to deem him an adult seemed unfitting. There was a better word to describe him, but at the moment she couldn't find it.

"Of course, it's one of Mila's greatest blessings to all Zophia." Her words were laced with a trained formality she had acquired over these last few years. As uncomfortable as her "princess voice" made her, Celica wanted to study this stranger without raising too much suspicion.

He was dressed in fine yet well-used armor, a rarity in Zophia, while a thin band around his head brushed green bangs back. However what stood out to her were his eyes. They were such kind things, coupled with the roundness of his cheeks and his easy smile, and it was hard to believe he had come with the rest of the Rigelian soldiers to desecrate her homeland.

The word hit her then: teen. He really couldn't be more than a day older than herself.

"Your land is truly beautiful, your Highness."

"Thank you…"

He seemed to notice her hesitation with addressing him personally because he was quick to ease her confusion. "Ah I really should formally introduce myself. My name is Albein Alm Rudolf, crown prince of Rigel."

Whatever warm feelings she had towards him shriveled up in a flash. He was not simply a bystander in this disgusting war, but the person who had planned it from the start.

And according to father's news this morning, he was also her fiance.

Regardless she forced her princess voice on again, in all it's cold politeness. "Princess Anthiese, crown princess of Zophia. As I was saying, thank you for your kind words, your Highness."

"It's not a problem at all." He shot her a boyish grin. "And feel free to call me Alm."

"As you wish, Lord Alm." She decidedly refused to share him the same pleasure. The name Celica was tied to a too precious time she couldn't let these barbarians tarnish.

"Anyway would you be willing to show me around the gardens some more? It's not often I have a moment to breathe without Cousin Berkut trying to hunt me down for a sparring match."

He phrased it as a question, as if she had any decision in the matter. If she so much as looked at him the wrong way, the Rigelians could call off the peace treaty and go right back to burning Zophia's villages to the ground.

"Of course, Lord Alm." She adopted an expression of passive contentment. Let her embody Lady Mila's grace as best as she can. If this was who she must share her life with, then she was going to need it.

They made their way through the gardens together, Alm chattering on about idle topics she mainly nodded her head whenever prompted. Again she wanted to get as best a read of him as she could with being noticed. Despite what any peace treaty said, he was still the enemy in her eyes. No bright smile could make her forget that.

She waited for a flash of brutality to flirt across his features, a sign of Rigelian cruelty, and yet it never came. He just continued blathering on like a fool at everything. If this was a time to assess his dominance over her, than he was more concerned with making bad play on words about vases and cooing over kittens.

Still Celica couldn't miss the sense of confidence that oozed from every pore of his being. His steps were military and precise. As benign as he tried to appear, there was no ignoring the danger he possessed.

"You seem quiet Princess Anthiese." Again Alm dragged her out of her thoughts and into the real world. "Could there be something troubling you?"

Could there be something troubling her? As if it having your sworn enemy in your home was a pleasure. "My disposition is naturally contemplative, my Lord."

Green eyes softened. "Lies don't suit you, your Highness. We in Rigel find it better to face a brutal truth head on, than accept a pretty lie. I assume you have your reservations about our marriage."

"You assume correctly," Celica sighed. "I was only notified of the treaty this morning, so you must understand the surprise I've experience."

"Agree." He stopped to study a nearby blossom, twirling its petals around in his fingers. "It was quite a surprise to me as well. Regardless I hope you understand that I plan to take care of you and the rest of Zophia, so you can ease your mind."

Celica tried to stifle her laughter as best she could, but she couldn't stop the treacherous noise that escaped her lips.

Alm turned his attention to her once more. "What do you wish to say?"

"Nothing, my Lord." She quickly recovered her composure. "I merely meant to cough."

Green eyes narrowed into slits. "As I said before your Highness, I prefer a brutal truth to a pretty lie. Do not hold your tongue for me."

"I do not hold my tongue for you but for my country." A flash of passion stirred her soul. "Zophia values honesty just as much as Rigel, but I doubt we could survive many brutal truths."

"Then I will do my best to mitigate the damage as must as I can." He crossed his arms and leaned back against a decorative pillar. "Speak freely. I promise to cause you no harm for it."

Celica took a deep breath. It was unwise to speak as freely as he urged, yet the idea of loosening her speech ever so slightly was alluring. "If that is the case, I merely wish to suggest you have not taken care of my country so far, Prince Alm." She clasped her hands together, smiling just as pleasantly as she had before.

"I can see how you'd come to that conclusion." He scratched the back of his neck bashfully. "Still I hope now that both our countries will be united, there will be no need for future violence between us."

"Then why wage war in the first place? The border has remained peaceful for decades. What slight against your honor was so great as to call your men to arms?"

"This isn't a means of punishment; I merely wish to save us both. You may laugh at such a statement, but you can't deny the fact that Zophia has been decaying for years now. As much as Father and the others would like to hide it, the same holds true for Rigel. In these trying times it would best for Valentia to band together so we may both survive this storm."

"Then why not send soldiers as opposed to diplomats?" Slowly Celica wandered ahead, drawing near to the orange tree that sat at the heart of the garden. "You should know peace is the language we're much more fluent in." There was a sharp bluntness seeping into her words, but she was more concerned with seeing this verbal sparring match to its end, preferably as its victor.

"Would you willing wish to unite with us?" Alm quirked an eyebrow at her.

"Likely not. Still I doubt you act from pure motives alone." Gently she plucked an orange and began to peel its skin. "I think you're a conqueror, Prince Alm. I've seen the affliction in all kinds of men, from bandits and pirates, to generals and kings. Even if you wish to put your people first, there's a fire in your blood only war can sate. Though your intentions are goodhearted I doubt that desire will be quenched for long."

"Now I understand why Zophia tolerates pretty lies. Your brutal truths could are sharper than any steel," Alm laughed. "However your theory holds no weight as there's nothing else for me to conquer, so I guess I'll be forced to adjust to peace."

"Not necessarily. You can always sail for Archanea if you get bored leaving me ripe with your dynasty's future heirs." There was no hiding her bitterness anymore, but Celica couldn't find it in herself to care. No matter how hard he tried to present himself as her savior, she would not submit to a life as a breeding mare as quietly as her mother had.

"Is that all you see this arrangement as?" Celica was shocked by the genuine confusion of his voice. Green eyes were wide with emotion, but she refused to let them sway her.

"Why did you come here if not to survey your future home, to parade among the flowers with one nestled in your arm?"

Slowly he approached her, gaze aimed downward as if he meant to choose his words carefully. Then he lifted his head to look her squarely in the eye. "To get to know my future wife. I hoped that we might share at least a friendship, but if that is impossible, then I will take my brutal truth with as much dignity as I can. Good day Princess Anthiese." With that, he turned on his heel and headed back into the castle.

The feeling his absence left her was hard to describe. Not knowing what else to do, she brought the orange to her lips.

Its juice was less sweet than expected.

* * *

 **A.N. Can you believe this started out as fluff? Honestly I'm a bit attached to this AU and am interested in exploring more if I could work out a way to include some plot elements smoothly**


	2. Vulnerability (NSFW)

**A.N. Thank you for all the support you've given me. I am starting to get really invested in this AU, but still only have vague ideas of a coherent, linear plot, therefore this fic will play out less as one continuous story and more a collection of stories all from the same universe. Therefore that opens the possibilities to jumping around the timeline and switching to other POV's at a moment's notice. However I believe this will create a more enjoyable experience for the both of us. Also the rating is going up for this one chapter of smut, so proceed with your own discretion.**

* * *

In less than a month, Alm and she were wed.

It made sense. Father was eager to pawn her off now that all the cards had been dealt. It might be a blow to his pride to lose his kingdom, but he could always escape off to a hidden-away seaside villa to live out the rest of his days. All his favorite advisers and concubines could come along, and they'd more or less be fine. The only one who was having to deal with these consequences head-on was her.

A blonde pegasus knight helped her prepare for the ceremony. She was perfectly fine; the dress they had prepared for her fit perfectly and the rest of accessories matched just as well. Everything was perfect, but it didn't change the fact this felt more like a funeral than any wedding.

Most of the day was a blur. She could recount small details: the presence of both Duma and Mila clergy, the Rigelian royal family's imperial glares, and the cold grasp of her husband's hand, but everything else was lost in a haze. The world only slowed down and stared to clear up again when Celica found herself clothed in nothing but a thin robe and sitting on Alm's, no _their_ bed.

A part of her wanted to go back to that cloudy fog, to escape there until she miraculously woke up and found out that this was all a bad dream; however panic kept her painfully aware. This hell was no nightmare. There was no waiting for things to get better because they wouldn't. Any minute now, she would officially become the wife of a warlord who was determined to steal everything from her.

As if on cue, the door creaked open to reveal her husband dressed in nothing but his small-clothes. Celica supposed this was supposed to be a very intimate and erotic moment for the two of them since they were showing more skin than they had shown anyone else, but instead all she could focus on was how strange it was to see him without his armor. He reminded her of a turtle that had lost its shell, nothing but soft, pale flesh. It was so odd she must have sat there for a good few minutes just staring in bewilderment.

"If I'm honest, this is kinda outside my comfort zone," He gave a nervous laugh before joining her on the bed next to her. "I understand if you're not ready for this, so feel free to tell me to stop at any moment. Are you sure you're ok with this?" He winded a hand around her neck, and Celica wanted nothing more to push him away. She wanted to kick him out and yell and scream and hide under the blankets until the Rigelians went home.

Still none of that was happening any time soon, and if the Rigelians left, they'd be taking her as well. Sooner or later she'd find herself in this position once more, so she might as well rip off the bandage in one go.

"Let's just get started," she sighed.

Alm let out a shaky breath before using his other hand to tilt her chin up and brought his mouth to hers. The kiss was clumsy and hesitant, perfectly logical considering his age, but still a slight surprise. It wasn't until Celica remembered to move her mouth against his did things begin to deepen a bit; however right as she began to feel his tongue brush against her lips, he pulled back with a start and pressed his forehead against hers.

Both of them were attempting to catch their breath. How green, so worked up over one kiss. Still Alm's eyes had darkened with desire, and it was unlikely he'd be satisfied to end things here.

"Remember, just tell me when to stop," He licked his chapped lips slowly until he leaned forward to kiss her again. Her mouth opened naturally as his tongue began to explore its inner depths. Once more she noticed there was a child-like curiosity to him. Despite such a mature situation he approached it with a genuine unfamiliarity that desperately wanted to be transformed into something familiar.

This type of introspection became difficult to maintain when his hand moved from her chin to her breast and gave it a light squeeze. A treacherous noise escaped her mouth, and red eyes flew open in shock that she made a sound that improper. Her reaction hardly startled Alm though, and he just chuckled lightly as he stroked her arms in an attempt to soothe her.

"Glad you're enjoying it." There was a mischievous curve to his usual open grin.

Out of all the emotions Celica expected to face tonight, indignation was not one of them. She was too distracted by the heat building up in her core to be mindful of such petty feelings, and could only focus on trying to get revenge.

Instead of meeting his lips this time, Celica pressed her mouth against the crook of his neck, and bit. If her moans had been improper, than the sound that passed Alm's lips was simply obscene. It made her heady with arousal, and Celica found herself biting again and again, leaving a trail of marks across his collarbone.

It was amazing how this simple action could give her such a power trip. With nothing but her mouth, she could make Rigel's golden boy writhe below her. The more she indulged him, the more his hips bucked and grinded against hers. The satisfaction it left her transcended basic bodily means.

As if finding it unacceptable she should experience more pleasure than him, Alm pinned her down to the bed to attack her in the same area. Only instead of fighting with teeth, he pepper feather-light kisses from her jaw to her shoulder. The sensation was strange but not undesirable. Still she fought the urge to squirm from his advances in an attempt to spite him. There was a power-play here, whether he knew so or not. She would conquer the conqueror tonight until he was reduced to begging to her on his hands and knees.

Despite these plans, Alm seemed determined to upend them in any way possible. He continued to press quick kisses anywhere he could attach his mouth to: across the planes of her face, down the valley of her breasts. By the time he reached her stomach, Celica was forced to stop him as quickly as possible or risk laughing from his tickling.

"Get back here," She muttered as pulled into a long, bruising kiss and closed what little space remained between the two of them. It was dangerous to drown herself in pure passion, but logic had been thrown out the window a long time ago. The only rational thought left was devoted to anchoring herself by gripping a handful of green locks as hard as possible. It seemed Alm returned the same sentiment, for she found him squeezing her red curls with the same intensity as he attempted to call her name.

"An...An...An," She cut him off at every turn, pressing another peck against his lips. The trembling of his body was addicting, a delicacy she wanted to consume until there was nothing less. Suddenly though, Celica felt something pressing against her inner thigh, and everything within her froze in place.

Red eyes trained themselves carefully on Alm's expression, and she realized his hand had sneaked down there in the midst of their lovemaking. He wore a smile that was both parts eager and anxious and left her none the more eased.

"I think I'm ready. Are you?" There was another sensation along with his hand down there, and when it hit her exactly what it was, Celica began to tremble for an entirely different reason Alm had.

Still he took her shaking as an affirmative and begin to pull down his waistband and Celica was twelve again and learning the truth of her mother's relationship with her father and her body would not stop trembling and she wanted to speak up but her tongue was too big for her mouth all of a sudden and she saw herself carrying this foreigner's child for nine months only to bleed out as healers could do nothing but watch her waste away-

"STOP! STOP!" The cry that broke out from her was primordial, from somewhere and something bigger than her. In an instant Alm froze, confusion as bare as the rest of him.

Celica searched for a logical explanation, a worthy excuse in case he decided to carry on anyway, but her brain felt as if she had been struck by lightning magic. Instead her tongue began to blather away.

"No, no, no, no, no, no, I don't want this, no, no, no, just stop, no, please, I don't want this." She could feel tears threatening to spill if she so much as blinked the wrong way. Dear Mila, she didn't want this at all.

A million statements seemed to cross Alm's tongue, yet as opposed to voicing any of them he chose to remain silent. Despite the obvious signs of longing that lingered, he dressed himself again and rose to stand.

"I'm sorry." He whispered so quietly, his words could have been stolen with a sudden breeze. Then he was gone, and all of a sudden Celica was so much colder and more alone than she could ever remember.

It seemed their marriage would not be consummated for a long time.


	3. Irritation

The week after her wedding, and Celica found herself trapped in the same dull captivity from before.

According to the Rigelians, she and her husband were supposedly so overwhelm with 'marital bliss' that it would be too much to let them deal with the state of affairs. What rubbish. Even if the two of them hadn't touched each other since that disaster of a wedding night, they could have at least given her the dignity of having her kingdom stolen from her outright. This was a farce. There was no need to dance around the truths of war.

Really there was nothing she could do. More and more the staff was getting replaced by Rigelian servants she didn't know herself. She had been hesitant to ever call the castle home, but more than ever see felt caught in a foreign land. Even in the privacy of her own room, it was impossible to shake that feeling. Maybe there was no avoiding it. It had been a long time since she had ever felt truly at ease.

Despite these brutal truths as the Rigelians would say, Celica preferred to at least pretend she still held power. So on a sudden whim, she found herself wandering the halls as if she was still the one in control. It didn't matter that the action was mostly empty. The fact she was allowed to hold her head high was a slight comfort she tried to relish.

Eventually she came across Alm sparring in the courtyard. His opponent was that Rigelian royal who constantly wore black armor. What was his name again, Bertholdt? Oh well, it didn't matter to her at this moment. Already she had gotten pulled into watching their battle play out.

For all their talk of power, the Rigelians knew of grace as well. It was like a dance, the way those two fought. Each slash of the blade was followed by a sidestep, parry, and then another attack from the opponent as well. Neither seemed content to go on the defensive, looking to strike at every opportunity.

Just as Celica thought the fight was really heating up though, the two of them laid down their weapons and shook hands. Despite their heavy breathing and sweat, the two of them looked to be rejuvenated instead of drained from all the movement.

"Until tomorrow, cousin," Alm slapped him heartily on the back.

"You know they say," The man in black replied. "Don't let the bastards grind you down."

"Here, here." They parted, strengthened by whatever male-bonding exercise that had been. It wasn't until Alm turned around to grab a towel did he finally notice her.

"Ah–" Green eyes blinked twice. "–Anthiese, nice to see you."

"Likewise, Your Highness." Despite her polite tone, her expression shared none of its cordiality.

"What brings you down here?"

"Do I need a particular reason to go somewhere in my own home?" Celica bristled at the comment.

"'Course not. In fact I'm glad you came down here." He pulled out a sword from a weapon rack and presented it to her. "A wedding gift from North Rigel. They left a note saying that it was meant for you specifically."

Gingerly, she inspected it. As much as she rather not admit it, the blade was truly a work of art. She gave it a few experimental swings. It was a near perfectly weight for her.

"Glad you like it," Alm gave that bright, wide-eye grin of his. "Say if you're up for it, I wouldn't mind helping you test it out."

Red eyes narrowed in suspicion. Was this some sort of apology? And if it was for what? It's one thing to try and amend a relationship after a disastrous wedding night than to try and make taking over one's country a less bitter pill to swallow.

"…A servant of Mila has no use for violence."

"I don't mean to disrespect your religious beliefs, but I'm sure you've bent the rules from time to time." He leaned forward with a knowing look in his eye. "After all bandit kings don't just disappear on their own, now do they?"

It took all her willpower not to drive the sword through his forehead right there. Those missions had been not only top secret but a necessity. Her father had refused to act, so the burden had fallen on her shoulders. It was nothing like this dreadful invasion of theirs.

"If you wish to spar then I will entertain you, my Lord." She took a few steps back and entered a fighting stance.

"A physical one this time, please. I'm not sure I could survive a thrashing from your tongue." The transformation was instantaneous. In the blink of an eye he turned from the smiling, easy-going boy she knew as her husband into the cunning and deadly general she knew as her enemy.

Just as with the previous match, his attacks were quick and fierce. It took all her focus just to deflect each blow. However thanks to her previous observations, she could tell he was moving slower than he had against his cousin. It was only a minute difference, but it could be the difference between victory and defeat for her.

Celica kept up the defensive front as she thought out her next move. Then she kicked her leg out to knock him off his feet. As expected from a trained soldier, he recovered from it easily, but that was enough time for her to lunge forward and press her blade right against his neck.

Immediately his entire body went rigid, adam's apple bobbing up and down in fear. It was such a delicious reaction, Celica couldn't help but smile in satisfaction as she leaned in closer. This rush of power was not just addicting but familiar. All it took was one kiss and it'd be ripe for her taking.

But then she felt the edge of Alm's blade pressed against her stomach. Just like that night, this was all an illusion. He was probably laughing to himself at the fact she was fooled so easily.

"What's wrong? How did I mess up again?" His voice wavered like a tree branch in a storm. "I don't know why I keep hurting you without meaning to."

"You have approximately 5 seconds to get out of my face before I kill you." She growled before shoving him away. She had to get away; do something, anything but keep looking at those damn green eyes of his. Already her feet her moving on their own, but before she could get completely out of earshot, he called out,

"If it matters to you, we're leaving for Mila's Temple in two days."

Celica turned on her heel, red eyes flashing with anger. Yet despite such a scene, Alm continued on calmly.

"It's for our honeymoon. You don't have to like it, but for your sake I assumed you'd like to prepare for the journey accordingly."

With a huff, Celica stormed off, not even sparing him a glance.


	4. Tolerance (NSFW)

Celica packed up her belongings herself. She didn't want any of those Rigelian maids touching her things or interacting with her. Not now. Not when it seemed her entire world was on the verge of shattering into a million pieces.

With a groan, she fell back against her bed. She didn't like this person she was becoming, someone so volatile they seemed ready to explode any second. She wasn't always like this. She couldn't have always been like this. Even when Desaix had tried to burn her with the rest of her siblings, even when she had been informed of her sordid and stolen reason for existing, and even when she had become another pretty decoration for her father's court she had always managed to keep her composure. It wasn't worth fighting things out, better to just smile demurely at whatever they said. When action became necessary she could always sneak out and do the job herself.

But looking back, she had always approached things with the mindset that her circumstances would change in time. After the fire, her father had shown no interest in naming any of his bastards as other potential heirs. With time there was almost no doubt that eventually Celica would earn the crown. When she became Queen, she'd be free to do whatever she want and lead the country out of such self-indulgence. Now that the Rigelians had taken over though, it was unlikely she'd ever hold influence. She'd always be an elegant ornament to be draped across someone's arm no matter how many years she waited and waited for something to change.

Celica clawed at her face in frustration. No wonder she seemed determined to drown in self-pity. What did she have to look forward to? It wouldn't be a shock if the Rigelians called her mad and threw her off in some secluded tower for the rest of her life.

That thought humored her strangely enough. That could be fun, playing the part of the deluded insane queen. At this rate she might already be half-way there.

Still the only ones truly mad at the moment were these Rigelians. Why on Valentia would they want to visit Mila's Temple after breaking the Divine Accord? Were they seeking repentance of sorts? From the vague memories Celica had of seeing the goddess, she was the lenient type. Even so, blood had been spilled. How easy would that be the forgive?

 _Maybe easier than you believe. What would you do if everyone else forgave their grudge while you clung to it?_

Celica pulled the blankets over her and curled up into a ball. She'd think about this tomorrow. Tomorrow everything would be a bit more bearable for her. It had to be.

* * *

When it came time to depart from the castle, Celica had recovered her usual calm mask. Things weren't ok, they might never be, but she couldn't be so out of control from now on. While action must be taken, for now it was best to err on the side of discretion. So she approached Alm with an air of grace and dignity.

"Anthiese, glad you made it down here." His usual friendly smile faded ever so slightly once he turned around. "Who is this partner of yours?" While he was obviously caught off-guard, he tried to remain welcoming.

"Lady Mathilda. One of Zophia's greatest knights." A sly smile painted Celica's face. "I think her talents would be much appreciated by you."

"A pleasure to meet you your Highness." Mathilda curtseyed.

"A pleasure as well." Alm's words were distant as he ran a hand through his hair. "I appreciate your assistance on our pilgrimage, but I'm not sure if we can handle such last minute changes."

"Oh don't worry I informed the convey about her presence last night. They agreed that it would be wise to bring along a personal guard, so I'll be riding with her near the end of the party if that is fine with your Highness." Celica turned and left before Alm could even answer.

Admittedly this wasn't a very mature move on her part, but it was a better way to channel her aggression than she had before. She knew for a fact Alm was stuck up front with that large, blond, Rigelian general. And Mathilda was the type who both could spend hours talking about that fiance of hers yet valued silence. While Celica noticed the unsaid questions that lingered in the air between them (it had been quite a last minute request on her part) for the first day it worked out fine enough to ignore them.

When it was time to break for camp, she made it to their shared tent as quickly as possible. In a flash, she threw her clothes off and her robes on and pulled herself under the covers. By the time Alm arrived, she was already pretending to be asleep.

Her act did nothing to stop her tense muscle and racing fears. Somehow she kept from shaking when he climbed in next to her, but even then she couldn't let her guard down. Celica kept waiting and waiting and waiting for him to touch her again, yet in the end it never came. Thankful, she let out a breath she didn't realize she had been holding.

That was the end of day 1. This could be a way to survive. Just skirting around the edges of everything. She could do it, just had to keep at it.

* * *

The rest of the pilgrimage continued on like that, politely avoiding any chance of confrontation. It was obvious that her behavior was getting on the nerves of everyone involved, but Celica tried to ignore the judgment. By now they were close to reaching Mila's Temple. What that meant for her behavior in the long-run was uncertain. Still something had to happen. Something had to change. It just had to.

Unfortunately, that change came in the form of a messenger pigeon stating that Mathilda was to leave for the capital immediately. The details were sparse but clear. There was no arguing with them, no matter how much Celica tried to debate so an every other angle.

"I requested you specifically. What could they need from you they can't find from anyone else?"

"Whatever it is, I am bound by my duty as a knight to comply." Mathilda sighed.

"That was under the Zophian rule. What obligation do you have to invaders?"

"Do not mistake me, Your Highness. I will never put Rigel over Zophia," Her voice had taken a chilly turn. "However for Zophia to survive, I don't want to unnecessarily provoke them. It might be best for you to follow my lead as well, Your Highness."

"What exactly do you mean by that?" There was an almost defensive shrillness to Celica's words.

"I'm not saying you should forgive your husband and whatever personal slight he inflicted against you. Now don't look at me like that. It was impossible not to notice the tension that's existed since the wedding. All I'm saying is that it could be wise to try and understand our... guests. It's a more productive use of time than pretending they don't exist."

Celica looked over Mathilda. In the past she had trusted he with missions and other secret outings, but to call them friends would be too intimate a term. For all she trusted her with, revealing her personal thoughts and feelings out of the question.

And so Mathilda left for Zophia Castle that evening, while Celica pretended to not feel so utterly alone. Some how she was able to make it through the rest of her daily routine, but that night, long after Alm had fallen asleep, she stayed awake, her mind racing with anxiety. She didn't know when she fell asleep, but it must have happened at some point because she woke up later than usual. When she opened her eyes, she found that dawn had already passed. As quickly as she could, she could, she prepared herself for the day. However as she turned to exit, she found Alm awake and staring at her.

"Ah..." That was the most coherent sound she could muster. Since the start of this pilgrimage they had barely said a word to one another. There was so much to talk about, and yet none of it seemed fitting in the moment.

"Pardon me for startling you, but I, myself, was surprised to find you awake." The intensity of his gaze never wavered. "I've barely seen hide or hair of you for a while."

"That you have," Celica answered stiltedly.

"Have you fared well? From what I heard, the Zophian royal family was not one to travel often."

"I've done a good share of traveling during my childhood." He continued to stare at her, tracing the curves of her body with those damn green eyes of his. Was he attempting to memorize her form in this one moment, or perhaps wondering about all the exciting ways she could be undressed garment by garment?

"I want you to know-"

"I must get to my morning prayers," She interrupted as she barreled out of the tent. She didn't stop walking until she reached the edge of the camp, and it was only then she remembered that her body needed to breathe.

 _Deep breaths, Celica: in and out_

As terrifying as that had been, it could very well have been their first polite conversation. After all, it hadn't ended with her threatening to murder him this time.

Mathilda's words from before rang throughout her mind. She might be able to make peace with him, but did she want such a fragile thing? He had been the one to shatter it in the first place. What good would it do to accept her conqueror fully? How would she survive without the anger and bitterness that was slowly intertwining with her bone and marrow?

She must have spent an eternity debating back and forth as she stared out in the distance at nothing. She only realized the convey was starting up again when a Rigelian servant tapped her shoulder. In the hustle and bustle of joining them, she decided to let her body decide her choice for her.

And so Celica found herself joining the front of the convey with Alm.

"Anthiese-" His eyebrows nearly flew off his face in shock. "-didn't expect to-"

"I've seen a fair portion of Zophia." She spoke as if he wasn't there. "When I was seven, the politics surrounding Zophia Castle became too much for a child, so I was sent to an island priory located off of Zophia's southeastern coast for a year."

"...not to be rude, but what compels you to tell me this?"

"You asked if I have traveled." She forced herself to look him in the eye. "So I thought I should provide a more detailed answer. Have you traveled much?"

"Actually, no. Most of my life has been spent at Rigel Castle. I'm a bit jealous of you actually. My father was always very protective of me."

Considering she had been trying to escape with her life, it had hardly been a leisure trip. Regardless though, she found it hard to be offended by his faux pas when memories of that time distracted her.

"It was my first time encountering so many children my age. There were two mages in training and two apprentice clerics. The former were always butting heads, while the latter were gentle souls. I wonder what they're doing now."

Silence hung between the two of them for a beat. Celica was half-tempted to retreat back to the end of the convey, but then Alm said,

"Would you be interested in visiting that priory later? Maybe not right away, but in a year or two we could decide to take a pilgrimage there."

No one had ever suggested an idea like that to her. What were four peasant children when compared with the duties of the crown? It was a small gesture in the grand scheme of things, but Celica found herself touched nevertheless.

"That could be nice, after all." She said to no one in particular.

* * *

For the rest of the day, they chatted about frivolous things such as that. She pretended the two of them weren't rulers of two warring countries, but normal youths just trying to get to know one another.

With this mindset, it was easy to get swept up by Alm's virtues. He was a very charismatic person, charming folks not with excessive praise or cocky arrogance, but with a down-to-earth friendliness. He had a tendency of focusing on the positive side of situations and wore his heart on his sleeve. In another world, it's very possible the two of them could have been friends.

As Celica observed his muscular body and fine features, she found herself modifying that previous statement. In another world, it's very possible the two of them would have fallen in bed together under much more enthusiastic conditions.

She got so lost in this bright boy that she didn't have time to scurry off before they broke for camp. The two of them ended up approaching their shared tent together. Still, Celica tried to keep up her routine from before, readying herself for bed even as she felt his gaze travel up and down her spine. She was just about to lie down and close her eyes when suddenly Alm grabbed her hand.

"Anthiese, I really don't mean to bother you, but I really must ask you something."

Celica clenched her jaw but did not resist his grip. As painful as this could be, it wouldn't be useful to run away from the issue.

"I just wanted to ask...do you prefer women when it comes to pleasure?"

Out of all the things she expected him to ask her, that had been the last thing on her mind.

"No...if you mean to ask about our wedding night, I did not deny you because I'm not attracted men."

"I know this seems foolish to pursue, but I just wanted to know if I did something. I'm not the most experienced with matters of the flesh, so if I repulsed you in some way-"

"Most girls wouldn't be lucky to kiss a guy that looks like you. There's no reason to over-think this."

Alm's cheeks turned a bright pink at her words. It would have been endearing if he hadn't opened his mouth to sputter, "then why did you stop things?"

Celica bit her lip. If the Rigelians wanted a brutal truth, she'd show them a brutal truth. "Can you understand why I might have reservations about baring my body to my conqueror?"

"I've tried to explain, we didn't come with dreams of subjugating you and your people-"

"It doesn't matter why you came." She stared him down. "Not in the long-run. I was close to finally having the power to change things, and then you stole it all away from me. It's hard not to be resentful, even when you try to comfort me."

Instead of coming up with some meek excuse as she expected, Alm simply held up his left hand in response. The mark on it was so similar to the one that painted her right palm, she was stunned into silence.

"Hearing you talk as if you're nothing is impossible to believe. Not when you share my mark."

"...what do you mean? Why do you have that?"

"I was taught by my father this was a sign from the gods I would change the world. The fact you're marked like I am can't be a coincidence." She searched his face for any hints of deception, but he seemed to believe his words fully. "I want to get to know you, Anthiese. I want to help you change the world. Zophia and Rigel can do it together."

She didn't know who kissed the other first. The action was like the snap of a band that had been stretched past its limits. When the two of them pulled back, Alm's eyes were so clouded with desire, she feared he would ravish her right there. Instead though he cupped her face and stroked his thumb across her cheek.

"If you don't want this, then just tell me upright. It's worse to be led on only to realize you don't actually want me."

Celica furrowed her brow as she searched for the right words. As hard as she was trying to be open for once, it was impossible to describe the way her mother's shadow haunted her, how the life of a woman she had never met affected her so.

"I don't want to bear children." It seemed like such a childish thing to say out loud, but it was closest to honesty she was getting. "It may be my duty to produce your heirs for this wonderful future you envision, I know I have no choice in the matter, but if you make me do so I will despise you for the rest of my life." Making such a bold claim might lead to the fire in her belly fading away without any source of satisfaction, but better to lose her lust than be made into her mother.

Instead of disappointment or stubborn insistence though, Alm simply laughed her statement off. "There are ways to pleasure the flesh that don't lead to a pregnancy."

Red eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Why should I trust your word? If you're lying, the only one that suffers is me."

He quirked an eyebrow at that response, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. "Tell you what, I'll prove it by letting you have your way with me. Whatever you want, you are free to do. I am your slave."

It was shameful how mere words had such an effect on her. She could feel the blood rush through every vein in her body, and she couldn't help but lick her lips in anticipation.

Still she warned herself that she wouldn't be made a fool. Not tonight, even while her heart and body was bare.

Slowly her hands explored his torso, until they reached the edges of his undershirt. "If you're really mine to do with as I please, then I order you to not move a single muscle until I tell you to."

"As you-" Celica cut him off with a finger to the lips.

"That includes sounds. I want you like a statue."

For such a strange command, Alm seemed as pleased as punch. Oh well that suited her tastes just fine. With that settled, she lifted his shirt to exposed his athletic form to herself. After a day of admiring his body, getting to see it up close like this was tantalizing, yet she restrained her impulse to have him right away. At first she only teased him as her fingers danced up and down his chest, exploring every inch she could find. She heard a few stifled chuckles slip past Alm's lips and smiled to herself. If he was this vocal now, then later on things would be even more fun.

She continued her journey up the planes of his face, tracing each detail and carding her fingers through his hair. Then ever so slowly, she pressed her lips against his. He opened his mouth in a natural response, but Celica pulled back.

"I said no talking, no moving. You're my statue," She scolded before pressing a kiss to his forehead. "You're mine," This time it was a kiss to his nose. "Mine." Another. "All mine." She continued on in this fashion until finally she crushed her mouth against his, drinking him in as if he was the spring of eternal life. All the while, she felt Alm force himself from responding to her ministrations.

With that she began her descend down his body, this time inspecting everything with her mouth. For every muffled moan she heard, she hushed him softly.

"Shhh, Shh," She murmured as she circled her tongue around his nipples or teased the waistband of his loins. The power she held in her hands was intoxicating. Maybe it was her father's lecherous blood in her talking, but what more could someone desire than a moment like this, where the entire world might as well consist of two flushed bodies pressed against each other.

Growing impatient, she quit the teasing to nibble the crook of Alm's neck. And oh if before he had been struggling to follow her instructions, this must have been complete agony. His body trembled like a leaf in the wind, as pure obscenity spilled from his mouth. With every bite he shook harder and harder until finally Celica said,

"Say my name and don't hold back."

"Anthiese," He chanted it like a prayer, like she was more holy than Duma and Mila combined. "Anthiese, Anthiese, Anthiese." She rewarded each call with an extra sharp nip. Then she buried her face in his shoulder and relayed her next order.

"You may now pleasure me as you see fit."

Saying those words was the equivalent of opening a floodgate. Celica was overwhelmed with so many sensations she could hardly process them all: there was the rough thud of him pinning her body to the ground with his, the feeling of his hands everywhere, pushing away her sleeping robe and exposing her skin to the chilled night air, the taste of his lips as he kissed her with the passion of a dying sun.

Before she could get completely lost in the reverie of movements, she felt pressure being applied to her inner thigh once more.

"Anthiese, I promise I won't hurt you. I just want to make you feel good. If you don't like, then I'll stop immediately. You have my word." As much as she hated surrendering a morsel of power to him, her mind was too clouded to think of anything but satisfying herself. She nodded her head and waited with baited breath.

At first nothing much changed, and Alm simply began to kiss her chest instead. But over time his attentions were drawn downward and downward, past her stomach until he was face to face with her quim. On instinct she tried to close her thighs, but he kept them spread apart as he studied her.

Slowly, he gave an experimental lick.

Before she could even think of holding back her reaction, a moan slipped from her lips. Finding that encouraging, Alm continued to explore her folds, lapping with intense fervor. She wanted to watch him in that moment, how he gazed at her as if she was the most beautiful thing in the world, but it took all her self control to keep from waking up the entire camp. Propping herself up was out of the question. The heat that had started at her core was everywhere, and she couldn't think, couldn't do another but roll her hips and-

The climax came in flash of white, stunning her just like a Ragnarok spell. The only difference was this type of numbing was addicting. She didn't realize she had closed her eyes until Alm began to kiss her eyelids as she came down from the high.

"Did you enjoy it? Was it nice, Anthiese?" He looked like a proud student, eager to please, but no words would come to her. Once again she just nodded like an idiot as she tried to catch her breath.

He seemed to find that answer satisfactory enough and began to gather her in his arms. Celica tried to arrange herself more comfortably, never mind her limbs were boneless, useless things and she was trying her damnedest just to keep her half-lidded eyes from closing shut for good. It was in that moment she brushed against his arousal.

"...you're still...do I need to?"

"Don't worry about that." He shifted so their bodies weren't pressed together as tightly. "I'm just glad things went better this time. If anything I should be thanking you for that experience, but we can talk about it later. Rest for now."

Those were just the right magic words. Her eyelids closed immediately, and Celica slept like a rock for the rest of the night.

* * *

When she awoke the next morning, her first instinct was to soak in the memories of the night before. The world and everything else seemed hardly interesting when her mind replayed to her the delights of their tryst.

However it didn't take long for her to notice that Alm was not in the tent. It was nothing much, just a simple observation, and yet it was like alarm bells had started ringing in her head. Without even thinking much about it, she was whipped into a frenzy, dressing herself as quickly as possible, and interrogating every servant she could find.

After an hour of gathering every scrap of information she could, it seemed Alm and a small contingent of soldiers had left early. Apparently they were only a handful of kilometers from Mila's Temple, so they had found it better to leave ahead of time and let her sleep in. It was such an innocent explanation, but Celica still found it impossible to calm down. She didn't know why she was so on-edge, but she had a feeling she'd only be able to relax once she saw Alm again.

"Prepare my horse," She ordered the stable boy. "I plan to ride and meet them as soon as I can."

"But ma'am, the convey will take at least half an hour to prepare."

"Then I ride without them." Even as she said those words, she knew how irrational she sounded. What was there to get in a tizzy over?

 _Things were starting to go so well. Why do you want to ruin all the progress you made?_

And yet the gnawing sensation in the back of her mind would not go away. In the end, she rode alone, following nothing but the few memories she had of the place.

Just when she was starting to wonder if she was lost, the temple came into sight. Warm memories flooded her being, and for a second she was able to breathe again. If the Mother Mila had not changed in the last few years then she would not forsake her. They'd work through whatever this temporary madness that has inflicted her and things would go back to being tolerable. It wouldn't be ok, but it would be something she could handle.

Celica rushed through the halls, not even noticing their quietness. She kept running and running until she threw open the doors to the throne room only to find it almost completely demolished.

And among the rubble and destruction, Alm directed a group of soldiers.

"Alright, we need to clear out of here fast. I'll be rejoining the convey. Your orders are to transport the hostage as quick as you-"

"Conqueror." At the sound of her voice, Alm turned around, those damn green eyes wide with shock. "For a second I had thought you were different, but even the pilgrimage was just another conduit for violence."

"Anthiese, what are you doing here? I thought-"

"What right do you have to stand here?! On what grounds do you dare act against the Earth Mother!" Celica was shaking with rage. Had all his kindness only been a way to mollify her, so she wouldn't learn the truth? "What are you going to now that you have defiled her temple? Where is she?!"

At her words, Alm placed his hand on the hilt of his sword. Immediately, Celica's blood froze. He could kill her with little difficulty. He had an entire army at his beck and call. Without Mathilda, she was all on her own. Really this could have been planned from the start.

She turned and fled as quickly as she could. Behind her she heard shouts of all types, but she didn't dare look back. Once she made it outside she realized her own hope was the surrounding forests, but as she made her way through the brush, she realized she'd become hopelessly lost if she separated from the trail, and it wouldn't take long for them to hunt her down if they wanted.

A prayer forced itself out of her lips. She didn't know if Mila could do anything right now, but she needed something, anything, please.

As if to answer her plead, suddenly a red cavalier jumped in front of her path. While her first instinct was to throw a spell, she noticed that there was no sign of Rigelian allegiance, only a mysterious mask that covered the rider's features.

"I can help you." The cavalier said as if it was the most natural thing in the world. She had no reason to trust him, but with her life so flipped upside down, she had no idea what else to do.

"Take me away."

Within seconds she was thrown on the horse's back, and the two of them rode off together.

* * *

 **A.N. I was planning to write this chapter ahead of time, but then I started college for my first year, part of this chapter got erased, you name the problem. At the very least enjoy the chapter length (I rarely write anything in one document that reaches 5,000 or so words) and smut, it is my apology.**


	5. Rumination (NSFW)

**A.N. Just to be safe, I want to start this chapter off with some trigger warnings. Tw: for extremely dubious consent and physical violence intermingling with the sexual violence**

* * *

Doubt was an emotion Alm had never really grappled with.

Of course he had never claimed to understand the universe in its entirety and had moments of unsureness like any other human being, but he had never questioned the reality he had grown up with. For as long as he could remember he had believed in his worldview with the same certainty he believed the sky was blue.

"One day you will save all of Valentia," Father would remind him as he helped Alm put on his gloves. "But we must keep it a secret, remember. It has to be a surprise otherwise it won't come true."

What kid wouldn't have loved that? To be so special and important? Of course as he learned more, the prophecy lost its childish appeal. It was a secret because the Church would kill him if they knew about his mark. And his job to save the world involved the destruction of the gods that sustained it. Still, he had never lost confidence in his destiny.

So when the news came that he was finally going to fulfill it, he couldn't contain his excitement.

"We're to invade Zofia in a month." Father offhandedly mentioned at dinner one night. There was such little fanfare to the announcement, Alm had almost choked on his food. Thankfully though he managed to swallow it in time to reply.

"Is it time?" He arched an eyebrow hesitant to say more.

"It is." There was a finality to Father's words, as if he had waited years to say those two words. And while he kept his cool expression, Alm could barely keep still from all the adrenaline racing through his body.

His entire life had been building up to this. There was no way he wasn't looking forward to it.

* * *

Up until they reached Zofia Castle, their campaign had been dreadfully boring. For all the violence implied by war, their battles had been no more difficult than sparring matches. Even if they hadn't surprised Zofia, their excuse for an army was a handful of nobles who had half the battle experience of a common foot-soldier. While the occasional threat had appeared at times, due to Rigel's numbers and discipline, Zofia never had a chance against them. By the time they arrived at the capital, Alm was certain all he had to look forward to was the mind-numbing peace talks that would follow.

That is, until he learned of her.

The news was passed quickly yet subtly among their network. The Zofian princess bore a strange mark as well. While they had earlier decided to quietly overthrow her with the king, this changed plans. Obviously they couldn't let such a mysterious character out of their sight, yet how could they keep her under their power? Before Alm could give his opinion, everyone had already agreed that he would marry her.

And while he found the logic sound, keeping a familiar Zofian figure around would spur loyalty in the citizens, discourage rebellion, and any future heirs wouldn't have to worry about legitimacy claims, he still couldn't quell the anxiety inside of him. The most experience he had with romance was dancing and flirting a bit at royal balls. To jump from that to husband was a grand leap.

However, once he saw her, all those doubts melted away.

She was put together like a painting, standing as still as can be among the flowers, while a sunset lit up her red curls just right. It was as if she was a living flame, a flower blossoming among an explosion of colors.

He was completely infatuated.

Of course for such a lovely rose, her thorns soon followed. She had a sharp tongue and quick wit, but that only encouraged his attraction. Their banter was more exciting than any battle he had fought in during this campaign, and he spotted the mark their spies had reported, plain as day on her right palm. Maybe it explained such strong feelings he felt. If he was destined to save the world because of his mark, she must be as equally important. Maybe they were intended to do so together. If that was the case then it made sense the two of them would have been made for each other. He tried wrapping his head around it, but only found himself falling deeper and deeper into the mystery that was her.

At the end of the day, she intrigued him, plain and simple. And once something grabbed Alm's attention, there was almost nothing that could shake it off.

* * *

The day after his wedding night, Alm awoke not from his nice warm bed in his wife's embrace, but from a stiff couch located outside his chambers. His first moments were not spent gazing at her lovely sleeping form but listening to Berkut's teasing words.

"Fancy finding you out here." Berkut smirked. "Kicked out of your own bed this early?"

"I don't want to talk about it," Alm groaned as he stood and stretched his arms. "And what are you doing here anyway?"

"Sparring time, dear cousin."

"On the day after my wedding?"

"I wouldn't skip even for the day of my child's birth. Now come on, haven't got all day."

As annoying as his constant need to best him could be, for today at least, Alm was glad to have a bit of time away from Anthiese. Last night had been so… unexpected. Rather then go back to dealing with that mystery, he rather work his feelings out through some swordplay.

For the first few rounds, tussling things out with Berkut was enough for him, but as their pace slowed down, Berkut began to nag him about last night again.

"So tell me I wasn't right." He leaned against a column as he attempted to catch his breath. "Have you already managed to displease your wife so badly?"

Alm furrowed his brow. "It's not that funny."

"I can't believe it!" Berkut laughed, completely ignoring Alm's protests. "What is she? The kind of man-eating woman who prefers her own sex? I wouldn't be surprised with that dour expression she wears all the time."

"It's not that," Alm grumbled. "She was enjoying it, but then just got shy all of a sudden. It was frustrating after having finally worked up the courage to take things further."

"Well that's when you take control! Trust me on this, women always get sensitive about dirtier actions. I always lead Rinea through bedroom matters."

The mention of his fiancee made Alm uneasy. It wasn't because of any particular trait of hers; she seemed the sweet yet nervous type, frightened of her own shadow. Rather there was just something always off when he saw the two of them together. As opposed to his lover, she always appeared to be more his servant, rarely speaking a word and catering to his every whim. Every scrap of information he knew about her came through Berkut first. If he told him that Rinea sang like an angel or preferred to be called "Mistress" in bed, Alm wouldn't be able to challenge either claim.

"Let's get off the topic of your sex life," Alm shook his head as he drew his sword once more. "Besides Rinea is Rinea and Anthiese is Anthiese, no use comparing the two of them. I like my wife the way that she is."

"Let's just how you feel the same way after several more nights on the couch." Berkut circled Alm as he fell into a battle stance. "She seems more trouble than she's worth."

"Her trouble is exactly what I like about her."

"And that's the last thing we need right now." Somehow without even mentioning the specific act, his words managed to make the temperature in the room drop several degrees. "Soon Uncle and I will be returning to Rigel to carry out our part of the plan. You shouldn't let this girl distract you from yours."

It was ironic the most important woman on Alm's honeymoon wouldn't be his wife.

"Even so, I want to at least understand her. It can't be a coincidence we… are so similar." His eyes darted towards the mark covered by his glove.

"It's best not to do anything rash before we're sure there really is a connection. For all we know her destiny could have already been fulfilled by banishing you from your bedroom. But enough of this chit-chat." Without warning, Berkut swiped at Alm, and soon they were back to fighting each other wholeheartedly. Conversations about god-marked girls were entirely forgotten.

* * *

In the matter of weeks, one girl turned all of Valentia upside down. Even since Anthiese's disappearance, Alm could not remember being afforded a minute of peace.

The instant the war began, the Rigelian Army had been split several ways to minimize the impact of the terrors. And at first, the terror sightings had been minimum at best, harmless and infrequent enough to convince locals to write it off as nothing. News about the creatures was destroyed so that unaffected regions would remain ignorant, and for weeks they had been able to handle everything fine. But now the sightings were growing more and more frequent. As citizens looked for reasons to blame these attacks, their scorn always fell on Rigel for breaking the divine accord.

This only added fuel to the fire that was the Zofian situation. They had tried to hide Anthiese's disappearance at first, but they could only keep the ruse up for so long. That lady knight Anthiese had dragged along formed a rebellion with the rest of the Zofian knights and her lover. While small, it consisted of the most trained men and women in Zofia, and with the rumors that the Rigelians had murdered their princess, it grew every day. Keeping the peace in Zofia grew so difficult that Father had ordered he return to Rigel Castle. Zofia had fallen easy the first time, but if the entire country plus the terrors were against them, that might be a fight they would lose.

The only thing that had gone right was the task force responsible for transporting Mila had delivered her to Rigel Castle safely. However, from the bits and pieces Alm picked up, it seemed that they had been unable to execute her yet. Even so he could already feel the weakened presence of Duma. It was a puzzle he lacked any pieces to, but with the rest of Rigel's problems he could hardly investigate it.

The closest to rest Alm got was at night when someone forced him to bed, but he found himself usually unable to sleep. His thoughts somehow always drifted back to Anthiese. Their last moments together haunted him. Alm had thought he had tired her out enough the night before that she wouldn't wake until he had returned to the convey. Her appearance right after they had kidnapped her god had caught him completely off-guard. He kept replaying the events in his head. Should he not have defaulted to his instincts and readied his sword? Should he had tried to lie and say bandits had destroyed everything, or tried and convince her of the dragons' growing madness? Knowing her sickening piety, it might have made things worse, but he still wish he hadn't driven her away. For the first few weeks he moped like a lovesick puppy, hoping against all logic that she would eventually return peacefully.

However that all changed when news came back that Southeastern Rigel, especially the land near the border, had been facing attempts at rebellion as well. The leaders of the attacks had been a pair of redheads, a cavalier and a swordswoman. At first Alm had wanted to right off such news, but when rumors came of her bearing a mark, there was no denying the truth.

How could she do this to him? He had shown her nothing but kindness and this was her response!? Everything had been going so perfectly until she entered the picture. It was one thing for them to belong to enemy nations and it was another for her to raise her sword against Rigel itself. He had excused her moodiness, humored her violent outbursts, but now she stood posed to rip his bright and shining destiny from his hand. It was the one betrayal he could not forgive. Marital bonds or not, they would be enemies first and foremost.

Each night his resentment towards her grew and grew as he found the root of each of his problems tracing back to her, yet his longing for her failed to diminish. If anything it sprouted alongside his hatred. She could prove to be their undoing, yet he still wished for her to lie next to him, to taste her skin once more. It was a never-ending cycle, with every problem she brought, another seed of frustration would bloom in his heart. Still the stress it caused would push him to seek out comfort in any way, and she was always his first instinctive choice.

There was no escaping her, even in his dreams. Alm began to wonder if he really did kill her, because her presence haunted his every move.

* * *

The two of them met in a pitch-black forest. Only a sliver of light was allowed to them when the moon managed to slip past the cloud's cover. Regardless, she managed to look beautiful as always. Her face was so pale yet fierce in the moonlight she could have been a wraith or a vengeful spirit guarding these woods.

No words were exchanged. Instead they simply stared each other down as they stood in an offensive stance. Then, without any signal they struck.

As opposed to the dance of blades their spar had been, this was vicious and unrefined. When darkness clouded their vision, they grabbed and pulled at each other's body, gnashing appendages between their mouths, spitting in each others face, sinking to the lowest and crudest forms of fighting. The desire to best her, to crush that pretty neck of hers if it came to it, clouded his vision. She would be punished for all this trouble she had caused him. The rose might have thorns, but he would strip her of her petals one by one.

For a split second, the forest was illuminated once more. Alm lunged forward, sloppy and telegraphed a mile away. However by the time he realized that, Anthiese had already dodged his attack and pinned him against a tree, sword pressed against his neck.

In that moment it was if time had stopped, green and red eyes holding each other in an unbreakable embrace. What were they waiting for? For someone to apologize and fix what had been broken? That was what she wanted. For the blade to dig deeper into his flesh until the pain intermingled alongside pleasure? That was what he wanted.

In a sort of compromise, neither occurred. Instead Anthiese captured his lips and kissed him recklessly. In contrast to her ghostly appearance she was so warm, so full of life. She was truly Mila's child, a force of nature compacted all into one human body. It was all he could do open his mouth in response. He was nothing but hers to devour as she pleased.

When she parted from him, she let out a deep breath, licking her lips in daze. Her expression was one of pure contentment; it made it all the sweeter to watch the satisfaction drain from her eyes once he drove his sword through her stomach.

It was fascinating how easy she crumpled against him. It seemed despite their plans, he was Duma's child as well; violence was inescapable for him. Anthiese began to fall to her knees, but Alm scooped her in his arms before she reached the ground.

"Not yet," He drew his blade and then tossed it to the side, not a speck of blood on it. "You're my wife after all. You've been failing to uphold your duties for so long now." He crushed his mouth against hers. He didn't need slow and gentle anymore. All he wanted was her, pliant and yielding.

He pushed away her sleeping robe to nip at the valley of her breasts, eliciting a slight, strangled moan from her lips.

"Come on you can't die on me yet," Alm groaned. "Or go ahead and get it over with, and then come back so we can finish things properly. Just don't stay half-in, half-out like this." He massaged her inner thigh as he peppered her collarbone with quick kisses.

He continued to prod and tease, anything he could do to draw a reaction. She was so soft and tantalizing, covered in sweat and gazing at him with glazed eyes, but it wasn't enough. Even as he rolled his hips against her in an effort to create delicious friction, something was still missing.

He gripped her waist harshly, not caring if he bruised her or not. "Where's that fire? If you hate me so much then at least show it. Come on, you're stronger than this."

Just as he was finally about to give up on her, finally she responded to his ministrations. Slowly she lifted her arms to loop around his back and began to dig her nails into him.

"There we go," Alm gave a blissful sigh as he pressed his forehead against hers. "There we go. Now kiss me."

It seemed to take all her strength just to lift her mouth towards his, but this time he didn't mind taking it slow. He didn't mind when it meant he could explore every nook and cranny of her mouth with his tongue, make every inch of her belong to him. She was intoxicating. He couldn't stand it anymore. The distant between them might be minuscule, yet it was still too far apart. Without any hesitation, he finally pushed past her entrance in one sharp thrust.

The sensation was overwhelming. To say it felt good would be a disservice. Her heat was extraordinary, hair-raising, spine-tingling, heart-stopping, better than how he had imagined it would feel during those long nights when he touched himself. He grinded experimentally against her, and Anthiese gave a high-pitch cry. It was everything he had ever wanted, everything he would ever need.

"More," He moaned, pulling her hair so as to expose her neck fully to himself. "More, more…" Her moans grew louder as she pleaded and begged for his touch. However as he fell into a frantic rhythm her words turned to incoherent babbling. So close. He was so close. The tension in his core was threatening to spill over. So close, he was–

"Prince Alm!"

Alm awoke with a start, dazed and disoriented. Just as he was able to process a servant was knocking at the door of his chambers he became acutely aware of the evidence of his arousal.

"Do not enter!" He frantically tried to make himself decent. "What business do you have at this hour?!"

"His Majesty summons you. The Zofian princess has been captured."

Alm froze in shock. He had waited for this moment for so long, yet now he had no idea how to react. The memories of his dream came back to him, filling him equally with disgust, horror, and lust.

However before he could ruminate long on those feelings, the servant was knocking and shouting again.

"Tell him I'll come once I have dressed myself!" Alm snapped. Whether that dream had portrayed his true feelings was irrelevant now, he told himself. What should concern him now was how he would receive the woman who, for better or worse, was becoming the center of his life.

* * *

 **A.N. So who would have guessed this was supposed to be a breather chapter? This chapter is more disorganized than usual, but I was really wanting to focus on Alm's POV on their relationship and the contradictory elements. The next chapter is going to start closer to the end of chapter 4, and there's going to be less nsfw chapters (which can be either a plus or a negative depending on you)**


	6. Dysphoria

**A.N. Same protocol as last time, people, trigger warnings are down in the end notes for those who need them, please be careful y'all**

* * *

Celica forgot to take off her mask until she and Conrad returned to their personal lodgings with Halcyon. He had to be the one to remind them both that they had no need to wear it in the Sage Hamlet.

"My my, you both act as if it is attached to your face." He teased good-naturedly at dinner, smiling fondly at the two of them.

"It's just easy to get used to," Conrad's cheeks were flushed a light pink. For all his heroics on the battlefield, he was an anxious little thing in private. "It's like make-up women wear. Once it's on, you don't think about it so much."

"I'd think rouge would be different from something that covers half your face."

"Well why don't we ask the person who's actually worn both," Conrad turned to face Celica with a gentle smile. "Is there a difference, Anthiese?"

When she had escaped Mila's Temple with an unfamiliar cavalier, she had expected many things. Well to be honest, it had all boiled down to one thing. After five minutes of riding in silence, she had started debating whether he was a pirate looking to kidnap women to sell across the sea, a nearby bandit who would try and use her to demand a ransom from Rigel, or worse a Rigelian plant meant to deliver her right back into their hands. All in all she had expected nothing but pain and exploitation.

So when instead she was brought to hidden village filled with women and children and people who seemed genuinely happy, Celica could hardly believe the place was real. Learning that the mysterious cavalier was after all these years, Conrad, wasn't so unbelievable in comparison to that.

Her next surprise came in the existence of Halcyon. While logically it made sense that someone such as him existed (after all she only survived the fire that took their other siblings because Mycen had saved her) it was the manner he interacted with Conrad that perplexed her. They lived together, apparently had done so since Conrad was brought to the Sage Hamlet. Halcyon not only looked after all his needs, but would help Conrad train by flinging a few spells for him to dodge on horseback and talked with him about different things. He truly cared about him and seemed more like a father than theirs had ever been.

And Celica, well, she didn't know how to feel about that, especially when Halcyon greeted her with open arms as well. She didn't know how to feel that ever since they got the news that not only had Rigel taken Zofia Castle but she had been wed to the Rigelian heir, that they had been planning to rescue her. If everything had gone as predicted, then after the couple had received their blessing from Mila, Conrad would have tried to smuggle her from the camp in the dead of night.

They had wanted to save her. They had wanted her. And when faced with something like that, Celica didn't know how to react.

Jealousy made the most logical sense. Between the two of them, she had earned the title of heir while he had received love and support, and in the end what good had the crown ever done her? Conrad seemed happy here, and it would be reasonable for her to resent him for it. However while she wished her father had held love for her, there was no changing the past. Palace life had been the only reality she knew, so she had accepted it with as much grace as she could. She would have been rewarded for her pain if the Rigelians had never come.

If she wasn't jealous then you'd think she would be happy or content. While technically in Rigel, the Sage Hamlet was hidden from outsiders and operated as its own independent entity. And as its leader, Halcyon told her that they would help her recover Mila from the Rigelians and place her back on the throne. It was all she had ever wanted since this terrible occupation had started. It would not be easy with just one village's support. Blood would be shed. Still, finally she had allies that would fight back with her.

Yet what comfort she found in their alliance could not outweigh the overpowering uncertainty that followed her every step.

Maybe that was best way to describe it. She was uncertain how to live in a place like this. It was too peaceful, too at ease, for someone of royal destiny. Conrad had been brought here early in his life and had never been expected to amount to much because of his concubine mother. She couldn't change her fate like he could.

The year following the fire, Celica had been given a new name and identity so that she could live out her days at Novis Monastery in peace. And for that year she had really thought she would have been able to do so; she had been slowly but surely starting to feel as if she was a part of the priory. But then the culprit was found and an heir was needed, so she was spirited to the world of Zofia Castle. Everyone expected her to go back to being Anthiese, but in this strange, new, yet deadly life, she didn't know how she was supposed to return to being the innocent flower the court saw her as. Even now she didn't know how to return to being a sister, no matter how much she liked Conrad.

"Anthiese, do you think there's any difference?" Conrad's question brought her back down to earth.

Celica took a deep breath. "Well I can't speak for all women-" she forced her princess voice on, in all its cold politeness, "-but I always forget to take either off."

* * *

It was ironic that the anticipation of violence was what brought peace to Celica. It was blasphemous for a servant of Mila to look forward to battle, but there was a familiarity to it she couldn't find anywhere else in the Sage Hamlet. As she and Conrad readied themselves, she was reminded of the secret missions she had carried out with Mathilda and other Zofian knights. While back then she had been frustrated to be forced to those means in order to keep Zofia safe, there had always been this underlying assumption they'd get out alright. In the end all of them would return home. It was a nice sentiment to remember as she clung to Conrad's back and they rode off together.

It was another small mission. They were starting to run out of small things to do, but she didn't let that get to her. A village a few miles north was currently housing reinforcements for the Zofia front. While it was largely an unimportant place, they had likely chosen to lodge there due to the port linking the northeastern and northwestern peninsulas of Rigel. All it would take was a quick run by the docks, a few fire spells, and then as they escaped, they would shout the truth of Rigel's kidnapping of Mila and disappear into the night. It was simple. They were starting to run out of those missions as well, but that was a problem for another day.

It was easy enough to sneak into town. The closest thing they had to a gate was a signpost near the entrance. The place was dark without a single light lit in any house. The further they rode in, the more Celica found herself able to breathe.

"If we look calm, others will be calm," Conrad muttered under his breath before giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

Celica gave him a shaky smile and squeezed back. They could do this. It would be easy if she stopped stressing unnecessarily over every little detail.

When they made it to the wharf, it was difficult to make out the ships currently docked. Although it was risky, Celica found it necessary to conjure a small fireball so they could see. As she cupped the flame in the palm of her hands in order to mask their presence as much as possible, Celica scanned the port again and again, searching for the vessel that will hold their target.

"They seem to be all civilian craft." Conrad voiced her own thoughts for her. "None of these would be the type built for transporting large amounts of soldiers."

"One of them has to be it though," Celica struggled to keep her anxieties to a minimum, lest she accidentally ignite her entire body on fire. "We can't have come all this way for nothing."

"Even so, I don't feel comfortable carrying out our mission unless we can be certain that we're not dragging in innocent bystanders." There was a firm tone to his words teased her temper. He was the Duma worshiper; why should he shun necessary violence if there was no other option? Just because Rigel had become a second home for him didn't mean he could be soft, yet nor could he imply that she was the blood-thirsty one when she only wished to save her homeland. It was best for them to both harden their hearts and take an educated guess.

However before she could stir up such dangerous argument, her eyes were drawn upwards to a flash of light. It disappeared so fast that one could have mistaken it for a shooting star and gone back to their business, but as she continued to stare at the spot, soon another flash followed.

"Damn it, we were so focused on the waterfront we almost missed their true location." Once you knew what to look for, the outline of a hill was made clearer, as was the tiny bead of light that would pass through. The troops had already moved passed the stage of needing ships and were camping on land.

"What do we do?" Conrad's voice wavered as his mask was actively slipping off and into the shy brother she knew. Luckily her's was fastened tightly to her face.

"We burn their tents instead of their ships. How hard could that be?"

"But that means changing the plan-"

"Then we change it." Celica hissed. "Those reinforcements are probably heading towards Zofia, and I for one and not gonna allow then to lay their hands on my motherland to be tainted, even if that means dismounting this horse and walking up there myself."

It was difficult to read Conrad's expression with his mask on. She wondered what he was seeing: the dear sister he had cherished so long ago or a potential mad queen that wanted to watch the world go up in flames. Nowadays a part of herself wanted to embrace the latter. If Rigel wanted to mock her with a fake crown, then she'd wear it with pride as she tore their shining future apart with her bare hands. If that was madness, to want your home to be home, to wish to be able to fall asleep at night without worrying about outside invaders coming and stealing everything from you, then she would go mad willingly. The only doubt she held was whether he would descend down with her or not.

After what felt like an eternity, Conrad finally replied.

"Alright we change it." He gasped in exhaustion as if their fight had been a physical one. However, Celica couldn't savor the victory in the slightest.

Not until this war was finally won.

She left Conrad at the bottom of the hill and traveled through the brush alone. If anyone was keeping watch, they would have seen and heard them before the two of them could react. Best to forego mobility for stealth. If worst came to worst, he could meet her at the top instead of waiting for her to return.

When she made it to the camp site, there was one lone guard standing watch at the front. However he was about as observant as a blind old coot. It was easy enough to slip past him to the back of the camp and enter from there.

In the silence of the camp, her footsteps seemed to sound louder than thunder. Despite her paranoia though, not a single soldier stirred. It was downright eerie, but then again, it wasn't as if she wished to be found. better to thank Mila for her good luck than question it. She could study the cause of this strangeness once she was back safe and sound in the Sage Hamlet.

It became easier to ignore those worries when she found the general's tent. No other would be quite so large and located squarely in the middle. She surprised herself when she realized the sight brought her relief and not horror. Celica had anticipated that she would be torn by the moral quandary of slaying an enemy when they were unable to fight back (in fact, in the same manner a political enemy had decided to murder her all those years ago), but by now all that sentiment has withered away in the face of her mission. Soldiers were not the same as children, And she planned to burn the rest of the remnants with the Rigelians.

She threw an arch of fire spells in front of her as she backed up and away so as to make sure the blaze spread without trapping herself in the flames. Once she made it to the back of the camp, the fire was steadily growing. While it was in line with their mission, something like sympathy tugged at her heartstrings. She told herself it wasn't for the soldiers, but for the townsfolk who might not discover her deeds until they had produced a wildfire. Figuring she had done enough damage as it, she lowered her voice as deep as she could and shouted, "Fire! Fire!"

"Why, you don't have to tell me that, Princess."

Celica's blood ran cold as she slowly turned around to find the guard from before staring at her with an almost predator look in his eye.

Immediately her right hand flew to the hilt of her sword while her left charged another spell. "I'm giving you one chance to save your fellow comrades. I suggest you save it before I strike you down as well."

"As if I care as if you burn some empty tents." The man snorted. "And I'm truly hurt, Anthiese. You didn't even recognize your own in-law."

Celica's heart almost stopped at the realization. He was the man in black, the other Rigelian prince, the warrior those from the battlefront whispered as being more weapon than human, and she had to get away from him _right now._

With zero hesitation she launched her deadliest spell, Ragnarok Omega. She could feel her knees begin to buckle before it even left her fingertips, but it didn't matter as long as it took him out in the process. Flames, hotter than Zofia's most desolate deserts, spiraled towards the man, but before they could incinerate him fully, he lifted a gem-encrusted shield that managed to nullify half of the attack. Although the man staggered, he still stood. Meanwhile Celica's head was now spinning from both the use of such powerful magic and how it had such little effect on him, and _she had to get away_ , but she was falling and her legs wouldn't move, and despite the man's soot-lined uniform and twitching body he approached her with that sadistic grin.

"You're just as much as a spitfire as Alm said you were," The man laughed at his own words. "Not bad work for a slut." As he grinned, the glow from the fire lit up his body in the most hellish ways.

He lifted his lance and struck. Celica passed out from the pain before she could even register it.

* * *

Following that mission, it became difficult to keep track of the days. In the brief moments of consciousness she clawed out, there was little to process: the tight restraints around her wrists and ankles, the blindfold and gag that blinded and silenced her, and the soft spell words that would force her back into unconsciousness the minute she began to stir.

When she was finally allowed to fully wake up, she noticed the gag had been removed, but what little relief that offered was offset by the terror that came with the discovery she had been stripped of all her clothes. She couldn't help herself. She screamed at the top of her lungs and fought against her fetters, but for all her efforts all she achieved was a rope burn across her breasts from the strap forcing her to sit up right in this seat.

"If you've satisfied your rebellious itch, then I would like to talk to you civilly," A croaking voice spoke from across her.

The horror from a few seconds ago suddenly multiplied into something even greater. She was alone, bound in Rigelian chains, completely nude, and at the mercy of a stranger who likely wanted her dead.

A string of obscurities fell from her lips, dirty, unspeakable things she had never dreamed of voicing before. However she was just as quickly turned mute once dry hands reached for her blindfold.

 _oh Lady Mila, oh Lady Mila, oh Lady Mila_

As soon as it was torn off, a bright light was shone directly in her eyes. Celica yelped from the pain, and it wasn't long before the blindfold was placed back on.

"It seems humbling such an arrogant whore will be more difficult then planned." The voice sighed. "I never would have thought a girl of royal blood would be so unruly. Regardless Duma states that we must submit to rightful authority, even when we are displeased."

As a last ditch attempt, Celica attempted to summon any blast of magic she could. By this point she didn't care if she blew herself up, as long as she took the stranger along with her. Unfortunately, her body was so weak she couldn't even muster a flame, and she recoiled against her seat, breathing heavily in exhaustion.

"Not only are you trouble, but your unintelligent as well." She could hear the sneer in the voice now. "'For every haughty display, Duma strikes the impious down twice as hard.' That's from Sage Epcar's commentaries, and it would do you well for you to memorize that for your stay."

"...Why are you doing this?" The voice that spoke hardly seemed her own. It sounded more like a pale, flimsy imitation used to mock her.

There was a long silence before the stranger answered. Somehow that was the worst part of this experience, not knowing what others doing while she sat exposed in every sense of the word for the world to see.

Finally they said, "I truly pity you, foolish girl. If you wish to be brought out of your ignorance, then I suggest you head my every word. My name is Jedah, and this interrogation shall be carried out in order to further the ambitions of Duma's chosen people, Rigel."

* * *

 **A.N. TW for physiological torture and threat of sexual violence, this will carry into the next chapter as well**

 **Man, I really didn't mean to turn this into a "Celica suffers" chapter but the further I dove into certain contexts, the more I wanted to explore them, I hope with school out I can sneak in another update that is a bit more timely**

 **Also I have a trailer out for this fanfic on Youtube. I'll add a link to those who are interested in seeing it. Here's a shout out to the new readers who were brought by it. You guys are awesome, as our my regular readers!**

 **/watch?v=HE38_-MZmaU**


	7. Hunger

**A.N. Specific trigger warnings at the bottom of the page**

* * *

No force in the world could have stopped him as Alm marched to the dungeons. The messenger who had informed him of her arrival in the first place had blathered about protocol and needing to meet with Father before anything else, but it had all been white noise. Above anyone else in Rigel, Anthiese was his. His wife, his enemy, he couldn't name exactly what, but the brands did not lie. It was his job to follow the fate it laid out for him, and he would not be denied.

 _Even if she is your kill?_

The influx of soldiers made it easy to find her. Rigel Castle had never actually utilized their dungeons in his lifetime. So all it took was to find her cell was to locate the guard and ignore his warnings as he swung open the door.

The sight that meant him…well he had no words for it. In the moment he hadn't even been able to comprehend the situation. All he knew was that

a) Anthiese was stark naked, except for the ropes and chains that tied her to a chair

and

b) she shared the room with Father Jedah. A man who had hated the royal family and its authority for as long as he had know him.

In an instant, all the rage and bitterness that had been building up over this last month, spilled from his being.

"What do you think you are doing to my wife?!"

Jedah's eyes widened in what could resemble surprise before flashing to disdain. For someone who was so inhuman, he at least acted the part.

"Your Highness! I must ask that you leave this place immediately! I can not perform the ritual if a third party gets involved."

"That wasn't a question, old man," Before Jedah could react, Alm had already stalked over and pinned him to the wall. "She is a princess of Rigel. What right do you have to taint her?"

From the way Jedah flinched, Alm figured he must be yelling. It was hard to tell exactly what was happening. Visions of his dream flashed before his eyes. Anthiese skewed on his sword, then her pierced by his manhood. He felt less like he was controlling his own body, and more as if he was caught in another dream, only observing what a lookalike of his did.

"It's not as you think. This is a purification ritual of the most holy order. Even someone of your impiety must understand the dangers of being around so much evil. It is that girl who could taint you. Her soul has been corrupted."

With those words, the most terrifying image fell into place. The Duma Faithful were most concerned about women's souls when they were in need of more witches, their most valued servants. Despite the ban on them and destruction of all records pertaining to the magic, the man who had turned two of his own daughters into mindless husks would still remember the technique.

"You despicable bastard!" Alm slammed Jedah against the wall. "Evil, monstrous scum of the earth!" His hand kept reaching for his sword, only to remember it wasn't there, yet he wouldn't let that stop him. His entire body hungered as it had never before. Fists could still draw blood.

"None of your prayers can save you, and when I am finished–"

"–you'll take care of me?"

Alm swirled around to discover that it was Anthiese who had spoken. Her voice had been so hoarse and frail, he had almost been unable to recognize it, but he found her sitting up and facing them, despite the blindfold that covered her eyes.

"Anthiese?" With one word he had transformed back in the timid little thing he had been their wedding night. He didn't want to look at her full-on, not when she was so humiliated, but even captive and stripped of all dignity, she commanded his attention.

"It must be so _terrible_ that someone might lay their hands on your wife before you have had a go at her." She struggled to speak, yet she spat her poison with the same intensity as always. "It isn't fun to share your toys is it?"

Alm dropped Jedah, almost having forgotten everything except Anthiese.

"What are you talking about?" He recovered the dangerous edge he had been wielding earlier. "You must be confused because I came to save you from that roach."

"So heroic. I belong to your blade only because you must finish what you started on the honeymoon."

"Be quiet," Alm growled. The curl of her lips suggested two starkly different meanings, and one would do him no good to think of now.

"It's why that demon didn't put me out of my misery after the fire."

"I said be _quiet_." He tried not to look at her breasts and remember the way they had felt in his fantasies. He tried to remember what he had even sought by coming down here. He tried. He tried. He tried.

"Because Rigel's golden boy demands that I only suffer by his hand!"

"JUST SHUT UP!" He gripped her chin, digging his nails in her skin as he leaned so closely they were less than a breath apart. "If you know what is good for you then just _shut_ up!"

He waited–for what he wasn't sure. For her to continue on in her usual, cruel and ironic tone, to taunt and torment him until he cut out that deadly tongue of hers. But no, Anthiese did nothing at all. Her face and entire body was frozen as if it was made of porcelain.

The only tell that proved she wasn't a statue, was her quiet, defiant trembling. However as he studied her more and more, it occurred to him that her shaking wasn't caused by anger.

No, it was fear. _Fear of him._

The same conflicting mess of horror and lust overwhelmed him. It took all his willpower to keep down the bile filling his throat. With a show of force, he pushed Anthiese away. Why right did she have to act as if he was evil? He wasn't evil, he wasn't evil, he wasn't–breathe through your nose. A prince isn't a mouth-breather. Show weakness and even your own followers will eat you alive.

He didn't know if Anthiese sensed he was falling apart. She still remained frozen in that unreadable state. What would be more painful, to remove the blindfold and find her gazing at him with judgement or contempt, or instead to discover those fearful and frenzied red eyes from Mila's Temple?

At the very least he couldn't let Jedah see him like this. Without another word he got up and left, all but running past the guards demanding to know what he done. He didn't stop, couldn't. Even once he was in the privacy of his own room again, he collapsed on his bed and pulled down his small-clothes with the same manic energy.

He laid his right arm across his eyes as his left hand fumbled lower. The closest thing to a prayer in years, fell from his lips.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

* * *

He was finished by the time another messenger called him down for an audience with Father, yet none the more at peace with himself. The weak child in him wanted to refuse and hole up in his room until he forgot what he had done, but that would only make things worse. As the bearer of Duma's brand, he had to be able to stand up for himself. A warrior couldn't let others fight his battles. So he dressed himself in his armor and prepared for war.

He entered the war room to find, Father, Berkut, and Jedah waiting for him. Again the impulse to flee was overwhelming, but somehow he forced himself to sit down. As soon as Alm settled, Jedah began to recount the events that occurred in Anthiese's cell in a huff self-righteous outrage. It would have been laughable if Alm didn't have to suffer under Father's cool gaze.

When Jedah's diatribe was finished, Father closed his eyes as grip around the emperor's lance tightened.

"Thank you for your time, your holiness," His words were low and level, yet radiated a type of power only he could emit. "Your concerns will be properly addressed. You may be dismissed."

While clearly having wished for a more impassioned response, Jedah seemed please to drink in the misery on Alm's face. With a haughty bow, he left, leaving the royal family to themselves.

Silence seemed to roar. Unable to look Father in the eye, Alm tried to search for any sign of comradeship in Berkut. While his expression was less intense, he seemed determined to mirror whatever decision Father made.

"Father," Alm finally spoke, desperate to do something to put himself out of the misery of waiting. "I understand why I shouldn't have attacked Father Jedah, but–"

"–but I ordered that you come to me directly after Berkut had returned with Zofia's princess." Father interrupted. "Is that not what I said?"

Alm wet his lips. "Sir, I was told you summoned me in conjuncture to the news, so naturally I assumed that I was supposed to meet her. She is my wife, so–"

"But did I order you to do so?" Father raised his voice, and it took all of Alm's willpower to not flinch.

"…no, sir."

"Then why did you directly disobey me?" He rapped his fingers against his lance, clearly not expecting an actual response. "Surely you must realize how difficult things have been lately. For Valentia to survive, I cannot have any dissent among those I depend on."

"I don't regret what I did." The bluntness of his words startled everyone, even Alm. "I simply wished to protect my wife. Why shouldn't I have thought he was going to touch her when she was in such a state?"

Father narrowed his eyes, even more agitated than before. "Again you make me question your loyalty. When have I ever allowed our enemies to violated in such a way? The Duma Faithful have their customs, but even they do not harm others in such a vile fashion."

"Yes, but they turn women into witches, even if they themselves do not submit as sacrifices. They would still do that if we hadn't stopped them, so why should I trust Jedah–"

"You should trust me!" Father snapped. "I have not dedicated all these years of my life to let someone such as you have their soul stolen."

"Forgive me for my interruption, but I'm worried about you, Alm." Berkut remarked in surprisingly sober tone. "While we wish for nothing but your happiness, you seem to be taking this marriage to an absurd degree. Above all it was a political match, yet you let such a silly infatuation affect you so."

Alm thought of shooting Berkut a nasty glare, but before he could act on the impulse, disgust overtook him, even greater when adding his recent sins to the mix. Just what would he have done if he had not realized Anthiese's fear? The answer should have been obvious, but he worried that in that moment, he may not have given the correct one.

"I agree." Father's voice brought him back to the present situation. "Ironically I had wanted to discuss you possibly assisting Father Jedah in the interrogation, but Berkut is right. In your current state, Zophia's princess is more likely to manipulate you. Until further notice, you are forbidden to interact her."

A surge of rage rushed through his body. Never, in all his life, had he been treated so poorly, like some outsider, like he hadn't lived and breathed just to fulfill this destiny. It was absolutely humiliating, yet he knew if he complained, he would only lose more favor.

"Understood, sir," Alm muttered, afraid to say more, lest his anger boil over.

"You are dismissed."

Alm stomped out of the room, half-blind and directionless, but before he could wander far, Jedah grabbed his shoulder and pulled him off to the side.

"Just so you know, I _know_ something is wrong with Duma," Jedah growled in what was supposed to be a threat. Considering he had shown nothing but antipathy for the royal family since Father named himself head of the Duma Church, it was hard to see this as anything special. "I know there is much chaos surrounding your fate, your Highness, if I find you are at the center of this, I will not hold back this time."

"I don't care," Alm couldn't even muster too much thought to come up with a better response. "Just know the same applies to me. Touch Anthiese and I'll show you chaos." He had no time for an old man who fought his battles against boys instead of kings. Without another word, he headed for the barracks. Maybe Jedah had been right about one thing, of that cell corrupting him with evil thoughts and feelings. Because right it now it felt as if only violence would drive them away.

Alm's body still hungered.

* * *

By the time Celica remembered to breathe, she found herself alone.

Or at least she assumed she was alone. Hard to confirm anything when you couldn't see. That was probably the entire point of her blindfold. And the lack of clothes. She would always have to question what she knew, if others were seeing her at her most vulnerable while she was blind to the world. Such a civilized way of harming your prisoners. Didn't need to lay a finger on them to drive someone mad.

The logical part of herself wanted to use this time to review just what happened before the freezing. Even in her situation she had to keep her wits about her. Scan every scrap of information. Look for any way she could get herself out of the situation. Still whenever she tried to reach back into that part of her memory, she would be reminded of how powerless she truly was and if he had been determined to have his way he could have just held her down and parted her knees and–

Whiteness would block out all her thoughts. Somehow Celica managed to compose herself and order her body to stop clenching itself so tightly and staying frozen so frozen. Alright so she couldn't think about that, not if didn't want to curl into a ball and cry for the next few hours or so. If she couldn't think about those memories, she would just try contending with surviving with her mind intact.

"Earth Mother, give me strength." She said for what would likely only be the first time in the cell.

* * *

"Sage Trujillio is essential reading for one to understand the Duma Faithful. He was a Zofian by blood, but it was due to his natural talent for insight he was able to rise the ranks with little guidance."

 _Interrogation one. No food has been given, and mouth burns for water. Earth Mother, give me strength._

"Duma values the strong, those who can stand up for themselves, but strength without meaning isn't power; its cruelty. Power is dangerous and must be kept out of the wrong hands at all times."

 _Hmm, thought rebellion would be harder for them to criticize, but it makes sense that they would have an argument ready. Religion wouldn't be so complicated if all it amounted to was "be a good person." Everyone has different ideas on how to be one so they argue over the exact ways it has to be done._

"You are not worthy of power. You are weak-willed and obsessed with hedonism. Mila has made you weak in your prosperity, gluttons too large to stand on your own two feet."

 _Didn't Father say something like that? Not the glutton thing considering he was one. Had to pretend I was only interesting in sword-fighting because it seemed alluring to beat up pretty men. He couldn't understand the notion I had become interested in self-defense at the Monastery. They were only supposed to have taught me how to make pretty fireworks and sparks with magic._

"Debauchery is all you know. We judged you unfit to rule in your excess, and Duma found you wanting. It is nothing but selfish cruelty to wish to hold the throne again."

 _Duma must be an idiot then. Or worse, weak. I did my part. When the Monastery was facing pilgrimage problems, I fixed that. When the deserts were overrun with bandits, I stopped them. I'm the only one doing anything to take care of this country. I'm the only one who cares._

"Even Mila would be upset with you now. A heretic picking and choosing whatever is most convenient to you."

 _It's not a sin to care. It's not a sin to protect. If I must pretend my lust is for blood then I will do it so the my worthless, no-good bastard King can go back to burying his face in another concubine's breasts. The outside world would eat him alive._

"Your sickness is hereditary. Poor child, if only Mila's favorite hadn't fathered you. Perhaps you could have seen the light. But his presence is tied to you."

"Would your solution then be for me to cut off his head?" It was meant to be a joke but it wasn't, not really. For a moment, as quick as it was, the suggestion was all too real.

Silence hung in the air. It'd be funny if Jedah's mouth was hanging open with it, but sadly she couldn't confirm it did before the silence went and unhung itself.

"Sage Trujillo writes here–"

 _Earth Mother, give me strength._

* * *

"Sage Affan was a master at applying past teachings into the context of real life. Particularly his commentaries on war are foundational to analyzing our modern Rigelian ethos."

 _Interrogation seven. A glass of water was forced down my throat. Still no food. Hungry. I hate his gaze on me. Earth Mother, give me strength._

"The phrase 'All's fair in love and war,' is inherently not true because war without rules is simply violence. Considering Zofians romance without any boundaries, this concept must be foreign to you."

 _Funny how I never made a good Zofian noble. Funny how I was too straitlaced and serious and pouty and why did I have to complain, can't you just sit there and keep your mouth shut for a few hours?_

"War can only take place between fully-formed states. There must be power and authority behind the actors. Their subjects must choose to submit to their rule and fight their battles. Otherwise all you have is a madwoman."

 _Zofia has those willing to fight to fight for it. The sex-obsessed world of my father was only for those in his favor. Mathilda and her fiance are good people. Maybe I'm not worth anything, but I don't fight for myself._

 _Ugh I'm so hungry; Earth Mother, give me strength._

"Rigel conquered Zofia through sheer prowess. There was no deceit, no foul play. To act as if we're in the wrong is to blind yourself to the truth."

 _Funny you say that when I can't see you. Ha ha, so funny. You can do whatever you want because you are stronger, you can even desecrate our most holy temple and kidnap our goddess. Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha–_

"War can only ever end if the actors respect each other. Otherwise violence will spiral out of control and–"

"Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha–"

"…"

"…sorry I didn't meant to laugh at you out loud."

 _Earth Mother, give me strength._

* * *

"Perhaps you are slow to trust my words. I understand. It's not your fault. Mila taught you to be that way. To fear any pain or unpleasant emotions."

 _Interrogation fifteen. Have had two more glass of water and a crust of bread. Still hungry. Earth Mother, give me strength._

"So this time I decided to look at Sage Vega's commentaries. He suffered a harsh life, but his faith was only strengthened by his trials. He did all he could to be self-sufficient and stand on his own two feet. Pathetic did not suit him, even when caked in mud."

 _"Suits you just fine though." Wait did he say that?_ It was getting harder to stay in control of her body. At the moment she was regretting being allowed water because her bladder ached, begging to be relieved.

"For this, people flocked to him. They were attracted to his strength. Even the king grew jealous of his following, as royals are prone to do so around holy-men."

 _Would anyone care about me if they saw me like this? Mathilda, Fernard, Clive… they've never been friends, just allies who I could trust to put Zofia first._

"For no matter how many jewels or gold the king owned, he would never possess Sage Vega's innate nobility. It was something he couldn't buy, couldn't steal. Nobody else could give it to him. Nobility springs forth naturally, like a well-tended blossom."

 _Would Conrad care about me? He tries to, but he loves Anthiese more than me. It's obvious. I hope he is ok. Ah I wish I hadn't drunk the water._ She crossed her legs.

"So in response the king tried to destroy Sage Vega's nobility. Wrapped him in chains, stripped him nude, and blinded him. Yet he didn't struggle, didn't resist, and suffered through his punishment with the same nobility. And the king hated him even more for it."

 _Does Zofia care about me? She's the only one I've tried to please and take care of, but is that because I can only care and an ideal. Why would your average farmer care if I lived or died? Ugh, hungry._

"This is not a punishment. This is a purification. As rare as it is, nobility can bloom in anyone. Without it we are restless creatures, fighting everything and everyone for no reason."

 _Please Mila, don't let me soil myself._ It was hard to focus on his words the more her groin ached. _Please let me have this._

"We can give you peace if you will allow yourself to receive it. Pain can strengthen the weakest parts of in ways we can't comprehend. Mila chose you and your bloodline. You can do great things."

No matter how much she squeezed her thighs, she couldn't hold it in. For once Jedah shut up just in time to listen to the sickening sound of it spilling down the chair and onto the floor.

Silence.

"You ar _e pathetic."_

This time she didn't care who really said it.

* * *

"…I wasn't lying when I said we can give you peace. It must seem hilarious to you. But Duma believes and loves peace just as much as his sister."

 _Interrogation 22? 23? Don't know anymore. Hungry, thirsty, stop watching me, Earth Mother, give me strength._

"True peace can only be grasped through power. You know that firsthand by now. How quickly peace can die unless you protect her."

 _"You lost so just give up and be a good girl for once."_

"But we did not take your peace out of spite. It was to ensure peace for our people. For our families, our children, our wives."

 _"You and Zofia aren't worth anything in comparison to them, just rotten, useless things." Oh Mila I'm so hungry, help me please._

"The good news is that now that Zofia and Rigel are joined, you are our families, our children, our wives. You are a princess of Rigel itself now. We want to do nothing more than treasure you and keep you safe."

 _"Just shut up and stop making a scene about everything. If you don't like how things are then just roll over and die."_

"What will you do when the fighting is over? When you have your own crown will you be happy? Zofia will be weak. Your people will suffer, and what will you gain? A facade of strength for biting the hand that feed you when they had every right to beat you instead?"

 _Mila I'm so hungry, why must he keep looking at me when I'm like this. If you want to hurt me just hurt me so we can get over it._

"Not only will you gain nothing from such an endeavor, but you will rob Rigel of its peace. Zofia claims to be our better half, but it will be you who send good and innocent men to their deaths on a whim."

 _I get it, I get it, I'm pathetic and worthless and you aren't exactly revealing anything new. Good bitches just bark, roll over, and then they die. That's what Mother did. Gave the king his baby and did the proper thing and died. Won't complain from then on._

"What will your arrogance accomplish? Answer me!" He slammed something right next to her, and Celica couldn't help but flinch.

 _Mila don't let me cry in front of him. I'll piss and shit for his delight. I'll roll over and die. Just roll over and die, just–_

"It is time to face the consequences of your actions and intentions? What do you choose?"

 _–die, just roll over and die, just roll over and die, just roll–_

When he gripped her chin, she gave a blood-curling shrick before passing out.

* * *

"I apologize for my behavior. I've always been a passionate man."

 _…_

"I won't raise my voice. I won't touch you. I just have one question to ask."

 _…_

"Will you repent from your actions? Swear loyalty to Duma, then Rigel? All this pain will be over with? Everyone will be so happy with you? It's that simple."

 _…_

Silence continued on. It was only broken a long time later by the scraping of a chair and the sound of quiet footsteps.

"The purification is now complete."

* * *

 **A.N. TW for pretty much all the same stuff from last chapter combined with the implicit threat of sexual assault**

 **An experimental piece, no doubt, but I hope it came together in the end, violence, sex, and power in the world of PLBT is connected in a lot of different ways and they leave both of our leads in the same state, hungering for something they don't have the words to describe**


	8. Resignation

**A.N. Specific triggers are at the end of the chapter**

* * *

The next clearest memory Celica could recall from that time, was the sensation of being dunked in a pool of water. Immediately life was shocked back into her body. Like a rabid animal she flailed her limbs, overcome with the purest of self preservation instincts.

 _I can't die like this, I can't die like this–_

It was the closest thing to a coherent thought she could muster.

A hand reached out to steady her shoulder, but its presence only made Celica thrash more wildly. It was only once she smelled smoke and heard a scream that she realize she could open her eyes. Once she steadied her feet it also occurred to her that the water only came up to her waist, but that worry was almost forgotten at the sight that laid before her.

It took a few seconds to make out the details. At first she could only discern blurry colors and general shapes, but as her vision cleared, her deepest fears were only confirmed. A Rigelian maid laid collapsed on the floor, hair singed and half her face charred. Most of the rest of them flocked to the injured girl's side, but one's gaze was focused squarely on her, stare burrowing into Celica's soul.

Slowly, she looked down at her hand, sensing the remnants of magic. Oh. She must have done it. Before she could muse on it much longer though, the world grew fuzzy again.

 _Oops._ Dimly she thought. _Wasn't strong enough for a spell._

Celica remembered hearing the sound of water splashing before she lost consciousness once more. In the brief moment between those events, she had assumed that staring maid would let her drown, but at least one of them must have fished her out before she could swallow any water, because she found herself blindfolded and tied up again. By now she had learned to first assume she must be in the dungeon rather than dead when she awoke in this state.

"…I don't know what I'm supposed to say, your Highness. I'm very disappointed in your choices. Especially after you had previously agreed to repent from your evil ways."

Her hair was still damp against her neck, so it occurred to her that it couldn't have been long since the incident. Not much to make of the information, but it was something she could anchor herself with.

"A cleric attended to her wounds and saved that poor girl's eyesight, but a scar was still left. It's quite horrible what you did to her."

 _It was one spell I misfired, what right do you have to complain after all you've done to me?_

"Didn't mean to…." Her voice was hoarse from its disuse, but she tried to speak as clearly as she could.

"Surprisingly I believe you." Jedah sighed. "Knowing you, you would have murdered her if it was your intent. But I hope we can use this experience to build your trust in us. Rigel will take care of you through the rest of your re-education if you will work with us instead of against us. You will be bathed, clothed, fed, and even allowed recreational time. We've gone through the hard process of purifying you, recovery will be much easier if we can put this room behind us."

Celica dug her nails into her palms. The fact he even made such an offer caused her blood to boil, but at the same time, she was tired…so tired. She could taste the aftermath of healing magic on her tongue, likely the only thing allowing her to have this conversation in the first place. Even the disaster of a bath had managed to lift some of the grime from her skin, making her feel less like some inhuman monster. It was addicting, such basic decencies.

"What must I give up?"

"Nothing you haven't already submitted. You will be treated like a true Rigelian princess." Jedah's tone had grown soft and low, as if wishing to be a soothing presence.

When faced with all these factors, Celica couldn't stop herself from laughing and laughing. She could feel his confused stare on her body, but even as disgust and fear wracked her form she could not stop laughing.

"Your Highness, I assure you I'm not joking or–"

"I know you aren't." Despite her attempts to calm down, a few giggles still slipped past her lips. "Why not? I have nothing to lose anymore."

And all she had to gain was letting the world burn like she had.

* * *

True to his word, Celica's life was transformed with the wave of a hand. She was placed in a guest bedroom as extravagant as her bedroom in Zofia had been. A tutor was assigned to her–a erudite man who rambled about high-brow Rigelian literature, theatre, and music she had never heard of. She was fed fine food and dressed in even finer clothes. It was quite a dizzying change. If it wasn't from the cuts left in her skin, she could have almost mistaken her time in the dungeon as a nightmare.

It was tempting, to drown herself in ignorance–a self-indulgent fugue–but even if her heart wasn't too bitter and twisted for such passivity, the fantasy would have fallen apart every time she had to knock from inside her own bedroom to be let out, every time she was escorted by two "bodyguards" whose hands never left the hilt of their swords, or found a every pair of eyes in the room staring at her while she innocently read a book. Jedah had raved she'd be treated like a Rigelian princess, yet only a fool would be convinced Rigelian princesses were only allowed to access two rooms in all of Rigel Castle. And well she may had been foolish to believe she could save Zofia single-handedly, but for their love of brutal truths, this was the prettiest lie she had ever been told.

It was hardest to stand when it came time for her "religion class." Jedah would recite scripture and rave about her sins as he had done in the dungeon, but supposedly it was a moderate alternative since she wasn't blindfolded and in chains. Rather her own body restrained her, shaking and trembling in a cold sweat as she gnawed on her bottom lip until she bled. Celica felt in those moments as if the whole world was watching her fall apart, but Jedah never seemed to notice. Guess she was just acting the part of a faithful servant of Duma like he had instructed.

Her first night in her new room, she had wandered around it barefoot, soaking up the plushness of the carpets. As she had traced her fingers across the exquisite oak furniture, she had found herself confronted with the same problem the Sage Hamlet's had confronted her. Should she be relieved her suffering had been alleviated? Nostalgic and comforted from the return to luxury? Angry, jealousy, broken? How were you supposed to live after being treated like chattel?

There was no clear-cut answer, so as she fell asleep in a sickening soft bed, she allowed herself to simply feel numbness.

That proved to be all she could muster in this new prison.

* * *

The haze began to unravel itself slowly. At first she was unsure what to make of the increase in soldiers or whispers spread across the castle. Rather than confront it, she had let it fade to background noise. Still the more it grew and grew, the more difficult it became to ignore.

The culmination of it came when a tall, blond man rushed in on her literature lesson, ranting about meet-up locations and sensitive time-frames. He only noticed he was in the wrong location when her tutor cleared his throat, prompting the man to blush and leave without another word. It was only after a little digging around to jog her memory that Celica realized they had been interrupted by General Ezekiel, one of Emperor Rudolf's most trusted subordinates.

Something was brewing in Rigel Castle–a storm she had no way of preparing for until it arrived at her door.

Instead of lecturing about another commentary that proved just how stupid and powerless she was, Jedah began the religion lessons with the gravest of tones.

"Your Highness, we require your assistance. If all goes well, we would be allowed to let you return to your husband and family again. Peace might truly return to Valentia."

 _How can there be peace without justice? How while terrors roam the land? How while your rotten tongue remains uncut from your mouth? How–_

Her mind could conjure thousands of complaints, yet she voiced none of them, staring at Jedah in deafening silence.

"Of course this is a difficult choice we must make. Is it wise to allow a sluggard such power after it had corrupted you so? All of our hard work would be lost."

 _You'd hate that wouldn't you? Having to flex your power again and toy with me. It would just tear you apart, hurt you so much to hurt me._

"Therefore it is imperative that you understand the consequences of your choices." Jedah's gaze fell on her like a heavy weight. "Will you take this seriously?"

She didn't want him yelling at her again, so she nodded her head. That didn't seem to satisfy whatever it was he wanted, but at least he didn't throw a tantrum about it.

"Very well. In three days we shall have peace talks with the Deliverance, the Zofian rebel alliance. His Majesty seems determined to take their farce seriously, but they wouldn't accept his generous offer unless he could provide evidence that you were safe and unharmed."

 _Hmm for a bargaining chip I seem to be valuable_. She probably shouldn't have taken delight over such a simple, sad thing, but the amusement still didn't fade.

"Do I need to make a public appearance?"

"More than that. You shall talk with one of their leaders and convince them to go through with the negotiation talks."

Celica faltered, unable to hide her surprise. "…will I be given a speech to make?"

"No, they are your people so they will know what are your words and what are ours. You will have to persuade them on your own." Jedah paused and something like sincerity seemed to shine in his eyes. "This process has required you to trust us, so now we are putting our trust in you."

For a moment, something like hope fluttered inside her chest—until she crushed it and tore it to shreds herself. This wasn't kindness, just a break from abuse.

"For your protection, you will be given an escort. It would be terrible if those rebels contaminated you. We'd have to start all over again."

For a second, Celica wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry. In the end although, she chose neither. "Thank you." It was like pulling out thorns from her throat. "I accept the offer."

"Thank you, I'm so proud of the progress you made." From the way Jedah smiled, he seemed genuinely pleased. But before she could make much of it, he slipped right back into another sermon, and the guilt began eating her inside out.

 _Forgive me, Mila_

For now all she could do was add this to the list of injustices she must endure for now, until it came time to return them to Rigel tenfold.

* * *

The next three days passed in a blur. As the Deliverance's arrival grew closer, her previous structured and scheduled life was thrown into chaos. Often she would passed to the nearest guarded room for hours on end before coming back to hers. All in all though, Celica didn't mind it too much. It was a refreshing change of pace to go from constant scrutinization to simply being ignored. Besides it gave her the chance to compose what might be her last words to Zofia.

The day of the diplomacy talks, she was dressed in an elaborate Rigelian gown that covered any of her leftover cuts and bruises while obscuring the weight she lost. Extra maids came in to further the illusion, covering the dark circles under her eyes with make-up and arranging her usually loose hair in a complicated up-do. By the time they were done with her, Celica had to admit the disguise was near perfect. She could hardly even recognize herself.

But then again, they had never wanted her in the first place. Today they were calling on Anthiese, the Rigelian princess they had been trying to mold her into. Best to lean into the lie and play her part to the fullest. Survival wasn't pretty, but it was better than death.

She repeated this to herself over and over again as she was taken into the meeting room. However any semblance of confidence she had managed to build up, flew out the window when she entered the parlor room to find the man in black sitting at the table.

"Took you long enough; I'll handle it from here." He waved the guards away, and as the door swung and hit her back, it suddenly registered that her supposed bodyguard was the man who had come closest to killing her.

"I assume Jedah has given you a song and dance to perform. Let's try and get through this quickly then."

No matter how hard she tried, no matter how many times her mind replayed the sensation of his lance tearing through her skin, she could not move. She just stood there and shook uselessly, as that seemed like all she could do nowadays.

" _Girl_ , I'm talking to you." He approached her with an annoyed glint in his eye. "Are you too stupid to realize when your superior is addressing you?"

Fire. She could see it everywhere. As she ran through the flames she kept shifting from adult to child, from the one who had started it to the one caught in it. Yet still she could not move.

"I don't have time to deal with any temper tantrums, so I won't repeat myself twice." He leaned forward to grip her chin, and it was as if all the movement she had been attempting beforehand flowed from her at once.

"DON'T TOUCH ME!"

When Celica opened her eyes again she found her arms outstretched and the man in black staggering back. The same desperate fear from the fake camp overtook her when he lifted his head with a killer glare, and oh Mila why couldn't she move or—

There was a crack, and Celica found herself on the floor, cheek burning in pain. She tried to push herself up, to regain some form of dignity, but before she could regain her balance, he lifted her up by the ends of her hair.

"I said I won't repeat myself twice, so listen closely, you haughty bitch." His face was so close to her ear, she could feel the spittle of his rage. "I don't care what pretty poetry Alm has been composing to get you back in his bed, or what delusions the crackpot fool has filled in your head. You will never be one of us so stop acting so high and mighty and learn to show some goddamn respect."

She should have been completely scared in that moment, and well it wasn't as if she was not. Still for the first time in a long time, full-fledged anger blossomed in her belly. She had been demeaned and humiliated and treated like an animal since this god-forsaken war had begun. But she would not allow her to be slapped around like one of her father's whores.

"I'm the proud one, yet you think nothing of putting Rigel's future at risk," The falsehood was out before she could realize the implications of such a claim.

Even so, the man in black threw the lie right back in her face with a snort.

"You, pregnant? Please, if that were the case, my dear cousin wouldn't wander the halls like some lovesick fool, aching for your presence." He descended further into a fit laughter, unable to speak until he managed to recover his composure.

"You know if we met under different circumstances I might have congratulated you. Must take some talent to seduce someone without even spreading your legs." Despite his friendly smile, any mirth in his words disappeared in a flash. "Still none of your old tricks will work on me, so you best learn to behave."

He slung her forward and sent Celica stumbling. Such further callousness only fueled her fury, but as she cradled her cheek, a disturbing realization hit her.

Her make-up was smudged, likely marred with a red mark across her face. And even if no blemish would appear, her up-do fell pathetically to its side from his rough-handling.

After all the effort put into her appearance, he had felt no hesitation in dirtying up their star diplomat. Either he was mad or he truly did not care. Both conclusion terrified her to the bone.

So for now, she tucked her anger away, back with the rest of the bitterness and bile that was becoming second-nature. Survival wasn't pretty. Nothing would be gained at the moment from continuing to defy him.

Celica crashed into a chair at the table the man in black had previously occupied and tried to straightened herself up. There was nothing she could do to return back completely to how she had looked before, but hopefully she could salvage something. Also it was another reason to not have to look with or interact with the man in black anymore.

She was just about to give up and let down her hair when suddenly she heard the door swing open.

"Your Highness!" She looked up to find Mathilda of all people standing at the doorway. Mathilda rushed to her side, taking her hands in hers, yet still Celica could not speak from the pure shock of it all. "Oh thank the Mother you're alive!"

"…What in the world are you doing here?" The words fell clumsy out of Celica's mouth.

"The knights of Zofia rebelled to form the Deliverance. We're here to bring you home." Gently Mathilda smiled down at her. "Truth be told diplomacy is far from my strong suit. I don't know why Clive insisted I come, but if I was to be here then I knew I had to see if you were alright. Oh can you ever forgive me, Your Highness? I should have never left your side!"

It was strange seeing this type of behavior out of Mathilda. They had been co-workers at best; why would she deem her worthy enough to lose sleep over? It was so tempting to lean into that affection. But Celica steeled herself and tried to remember that it wasn't her they wanted. They yearned for the Zofian Anthiese—the queen who would fix everything with a wave of her hand. Oh Earth Mother, how long has she been lying to them, dragging around a rotting corpse in hopes it might one day breathe again?

"What have they done to you? I swear if they laid even a single finger on you, Duma won't be able to match my wrath!"

"I've been treated like a Rigelian princess," Celica felt Mathilda's gaze travel to her cheek just as the man in black's reached her. "I tripped, you… you know how I can be—"

"Actually I don't, Your Highness, could you explain—"

"I won't be returning to Zofia!" Tears threatened to spill, but Celica did her best to blink them away. She didn't ask Mila to protect her from pain anymore, but at the very least she prayed that the Earth Mother might not allow her to cry until this horrid affair was over. "This is my home now. This is my family now. So please don't waste your time trying to save me."

"Your Highness, that's unacceptable! What right do they have to the Zofian throne?"

"Well what right do I have, when I never even sat on it?" Slowly Celica took a deep breath. "Do you remember that time I almost _drowned?_ "

Mathilda grew still. "What river did that happen in again?"

"The _north-east_ one." There were few rivers in that region, and none were big enough to garner national recognition. But that didn't matter because the event had never happened in the first place. It was a part of an ancient code only the most high-ranked knights and the Zofian royal family knew. Right now she had managed to pass along at least two parts of her message: travel, north-east.

"I spent so much time thrashing about, calling for my personal _maid,_ " Ally. "I should have just leaned back and tried to float."

"…So this is what floating looks like?"

"Yes, in _Rigel_ ," There was no telling if she would able to meet up with Conrad, if he was even still… no she had mourned him once she would not mourn him again, at least not now. Still there was Halcyon and the Sage's Hamlet. Maybe they could help the Deliverance at least some.

By now Celica had given up on escaping Rigel alive. But if she could save Mila or help Zofia become free in any little way, she would take it. All she wished was that her legacy may be of more use than her life was.

* * *

It wasn't until evening Celica made her way back to her bedroom. While the meeting with Mathilda hadn't lasted much longer after she issued the secret command, the man in black ended up having obligations of his own to attend to. Since Celica was not allowed to travel around the castle without an escort she was forced to watch him spar with other Deliverance members in "friendly" competition. While little blood was shed, it had taken all her willpower not to vomit at the memories it reignited.

So when it came time to turn in for the night, she had been more than ready to collapse. However right as she closed her door, she looked up to find Alm sitting on her bed.

"Please don't scream," He whispered before she could react. "I just want to talk with you in private, and this was the only way it could happen."

A part of her wanted to yell for the guards simply out of spite, but those damn green eyes arrested her heart completely. They were such soft, kind things, and softness these days was so very hard to find.

Were those eyes just as kind that last time he threatened you?

As real as that fear inside of her was, she was more tired of fighting than she was scared. If he truly wanted to violate her, he could have done so at any time. At some point you ran out of energy to stay frightened when it simply was the status quo.

"Very well." Celica mustered as much resolve as she could. "But first let me settle."

She approached her dresser and began to remove the pins from her hair and wipe her remaining makeup off. While the opportunity to compose herself was nice, more than anything else she wanted to test his reaction to her. She waited for his gaze to explore up and down her spine, or at least try and catch a peek of her. Even if she didn't take her clothes off, if he was as lovesick as others claim, she would inevitably feel something.

But as she finished, she found him with his eyes staring directly in his lap as he attempted to take up the least amount of room as possible.

Celica bit her lip. Seems it would take more effort to pull out the truth.

"So what business, brings you here?" She sat down on the other side of the bed, back to him.

"I just want to say…" From the mirror across from her she could see the back of his head, how it tilted as he paused and search for the right words. "…I'm sorry for how you've been treated. Jedah should have never been allowed to supervise you."

"…but he was still allowed to." There's no reason she should make this any less difficult for him than it is for her.

"I had no power over that," He sighed, "First they give me a wife, then they won't let me take care of her proper. It's frustrated me to no end these past few weeks."

"You still won't define what you mean when you say that."

"What else would I mean?"

In that moment, she wanted to turn around and slap him in the face. She wanted to shake him and scream of Mila. She was willing to try and let go of her hatred, willing to learn why Rigel had started this blasted war before they stole Zofia's soul. How could he sit there so arrogantly?

But Mila was a risky conversation-starter. If they knew she knew enough to be dangerous, then she probably wouldn't still be breathing. Better to play dumb and leave it as their best known secret.

"Your cousin said I seduced you. Well if that's the case then you're entitled to get your fill. Discipline such an unruly wife." She fell back and closed her eyes so she was laying besides him now. "I'll even make it easy for you, I won't resist."

She could feel her gaze on her now, hot and heavy, and maybe this was for the best. There was a peace in ripping a band-aid off. Maybe Jedah would have less power over her when the worst finally occurred.

Still despite herself, when she felt his hand caress her cheek, her eyes flew open instinctively. Celica didn't know what she was expecting, but it hadn't been this.

While the attraction was there, such pain filled his eyes as well.

"You shouldn't be treated like this." A finger lightly traced the bruise. "Since when have we become a people that destroys our own women?"

She wanted to inform him, that the man in black faced no similar moral quandary—sink her fangs in and pump his veins with more venom—but his touched filled her mind so completely, she couldn't think of anything else.

"You shouldn't be shaking. You shouldn't be afraid of me." He wiped the back of his other hand across his eyes. "I'm sorry. Father told me to trust him, but this just can't be right." His lips brushed against the bruise so faintly she could have mistaken it for a breeze. The last thing she had expected was for him to treat her like she was made of glass.

"They've hurt you in other places too haven't they?"

Slowly Celica nodded.

"May I see those places?"

"…Yes…" She could hardly believe she was saying such things, but she didn't need such affection clouding her vision. Just let her be used and thrown away already. Kindness was the most brutal weapon he could wield against her.

But wield it he did, more deftly than either blade he could have pierced her with. Carefully he explored her outline. For every cut he whispered a quiet apology. Every scrape was soothed with his tongue as he peeled away her dress, searching lower and lower.

Still the release never came. For the entire night Celica laid there like that as the man who should be her greatest enemy all but worshiped her.

In the end, she found herself trembling for two very different reasons.

* * *

 **AN. TW for the same topic from previous chapters though their presence is much more milder, also there is some physical assault**

 **I have terrible luck with incomplete chapters of this getting deleted, this was supposed to come out early September, sorry guys, but add in school returning, a lot of important writing contests taking away my time and another WIP I would like to complete soon, it has been rough, expect another long wait, but hopefully once I settle things I will be able to have a more frequent posting schedule**


	9. Affection (NSFW)

**A.N. Like always tw's at the end (though especially for the nsfw content)**

* * *

When Celica awoke the next morning, her first reaction was to write off last night's events as a dream. In the haze of her morning stupor, that was the only way she could process Alm's actions, as some imagined affection she had conjured up for herself.

But on her nightstand she found a scrawled out note that was real and concrete when she picked it up.

"I hope to see you at the opera tomorrow night."

She read the note over and over again, hoping somehow she'd notice some hidden code or additional message he had left. Still the more she studied it, the more innocent and unassuming it managed to grow.

Celica tucked the note in a drawer, afraid to look at it any longer yet afraid to let it be left out for just anyone to find.

Back at the Sage Hamlet, she and Halcyon had held a strange conversation. As she was helping him carry a few boxes, he had noticed the mark on the palm of her hand and nearly dropped his share of the weight on his foot.

"Did Conrad know you were a brand bearer?" He murmured in awe once they were settled down.

"Brand bearer?" Celica traced the mark on her palm. "I suppose so. I've had this all my life. Didn't know why until my Father saw it. Said it was a manifestation of Mila's influence on our bloodline and appeared every generation or so."

"That is half the answer." Halcyon blew out a puff of air between his teeth. "Brands appear whenever Mila chooses a person as her champion. Most of the time it is earned after accomplishing some heroic deed—that is how the original Zofia won hers, why Emperor Rudolf wears Duma's and was able to earn the crown. But I've never heard of it appearing at birth."

Unconsciously, Celica dug her nails into the brand. "Could it be passed down hereditarily? That would explain Prince Albein's—"

"Prince Albein has a brand!?" Halcyon grip around his staff grew so tight, she feared it would snap in half from the pressure. "Could it be the children of fate have arrived?"

"Children of Fate?" Celica couldn't hide the growing concern in her voice. "Just what does any of this mean?"

Halcyon took a deep breath to compose himself. "I am no seer. I don't wish to burden you will half-formed visions and ancient augury readings. Even if I could tell you much, knowing one's fate is a dangerous thing."

Celica willed herself to stay calm, to respect her generous host's wishes despite how irrational they seemed, but fire spewed from her mouth as soon as opened it.

"It must be easy to stay an observer while living in your small corner of the world." Her nails dug so deep they broke skin. "But I've never had even the luxury of trying to stay out of this mess. Prince Albein acted as if he married me for the brand. If I didn't have it he might have…" She remembered Alm's hand on the hilt of his sword. No, even this mark might not have saved her from him. "...regardless it is more dangerous for me to be in the dark while everyone else decides my future."

Halcyon's expression was grim and firm, but Celica's gaze didn't waver an inch.

When he broke away she could feel blood stain her palms.

"I can't deny that you speak truth, Anthiese." He looked at her with the same fatherly expression he always gave Conrad, and she could decide if the feeling it gave her was unpleasant or not. Gently he pried her fists apart and dabbed at them with a handkerchief. "Something stronger than blood or bonds ties the prince and you together. I do not know the roles you two will play, but only that they could have widespread consequences for the rest of Valentia. So please be cautious, for at the very least my sake."

Offering yourself as a sex doll wasn't caution, but these days it felt like her husband turned into a different man each time they met. Back then the largest contradiction to him was the kind smile and timid attitude he held all while planning to spirit Zofia's goddess away. Now she had no idea whether his touch would bring pleasure or pain.

 _He wasn't the one to hand you off to Jedah_

 _He wasn't the one who saved you from him_

Maybe it was that tie Halcyon described that made her want to trust him. Maybe that tie was the reason he waxed pretty lies of partnership and respect at her. Or maybe they were both projecting only what they wanted this relationship to be on the other in futile hopes that something worthwhile could blossom from all this bloodshed. That was probably how her mother had survived her own marriage, pretending that good intentions were the same as love.

 _"You shouldn't be shaking. You shouldn't be afraid of me." He wiped the back of his other hand across his eyes. "I'm sorry. Father told me to trust him, but this just can't be right."_

With a start, Celica pushed herself up—hoping to simultaneously push that memory away from her mind. Whatever they were, it was a mutual weakness. The only question remaining was which one of them needed the other more.

* * *

Celica didn't have to spend much time tracking down more information about Alm's opera. Instead of another religion lesson, Jedah congratulated her on a job well done.

"I'm proud of you, Your Highness," His praise was like poison. "I think Rigel is ready to meet her new princess now."

 _Now what? Now that I'm your puppet who will parrot whatever you desire? Now that I don't cry when I am hit, or because my own people don't recognize me anymore?_

"Thank you."

"Before the Deliverance is sent off, we're putting on some entertainment for everyone. It will help us all end on a good note, and the masses do love it when they are allowed entry into Rigel Castle."

 _Yes come look at this Zofian rose. Look at how she has been dethroned, dethorned, and deflowered. Now she is no more dangerous than a marigold._

"Is it an opera?"

Jedah stared at her for a beat, but before she could explain away her prediction he was already looking back down at his notes. "Unfortunately yes. Gaudy and irreverent as they may be, it's what pleases the people. I'll leave the fun to them while I fast and commune at the temple."

So it really was her first night of freedom—or at least freedom as she would know it from now on, as a daughter of Rigel no one would care re-educating if the need arose.

 _Oh Earth Mother I am so tired…_

"Don't worry, I'm sure the people will love you." The encouragement sounded just as foreign as his praise. Did she want to be loved by Rigel, measured and evaluated to see if she fit their cruel and alien standards?

Before she could decide whether to shudder or smile at the thought, her same bland reply was out once more.

"Thank you."

A bouquet of marigolds might be pretty, but their petals still poisoned those who tried to consume them.

* * *

The next night, as she was dressed in her attire from her meeting with Mathilda, she held her head high as if it was armor. This is was she had humiliated herself for. This was what she had sold her country for—a scrap of respect. As small as it was, she would demand it to the fullest extent. Even if she had to sit with the man in black and laugh at his jokes while still wearing his bruise. It didn't matter if the price was worth it, she had already paid. Might as well use her purchase to its fullest.

When she arrived at her box seat, she was hit with the same ambivalence that had ruled her lately. Despite its large size, designed to hold the entire royal family, there were only two other people sitting there. No emperor, no man in black, no Alm—just her tutor and a blue wisp of a woman dressed in a similarly layered and heavy dress.

"Excuse me…" Hesitantly Celica took a step forward, unsure if the guards had brought her to the right place."

"Ah your Highness!" Her tutor turned around so fast, his ponytail whipped around his neck to smack his cheek. "The Emperor and princes regret being unable to accompany you, so they request I act as your chaperone tonight." Before she could react, he shoved a program in her hands. "I recommend you read up on the show while I freshen up. _Matvei Zhirov_ is a national treasure unto itself and dense in references to Rigelian culture. If you have any questions, I'm sure my other pupil, Lady Rinea can fill you in."

With that he took off like a gust of excalibur, leaving Celica standing there as confused as usual. She looked to the other woman for guidance, but she seemed more interested in straightening her skirts than of being of any help.

 _Why did you expect anything more?_

Briskly Celica seated herself to the right of where her tutor had been, leaving a buffer between her and the other woman. Things were already complicated enough; she told herself that she didn't need to get wrapped up with any more Rigelians. So she tried to follow her tutor's advice and peruse the program—hoping it might also explain why Alm wanted her here if he wasn't going to attend himself. But the more she read of unknown singers and obscure influences behind the opera, the more she found her attention drifting back to the woman beside her. It was so frustrating, both the program and her own wandering eye, that Celica ended up throwing down the program in a huff.

The woman's eyebrows rose in fright. Such an innocent reaction, it took all her focus to force down a wry smirk from spreading across her face. There was a intoxicating effect in knowing this was the least she had done, that she still had an ounce of power even after everything. The realization made her more willing to finally indulge her curiosity.

Celica picked up the program in an effort to compose herself. "I don't recall the royal family having any daughters."

The woman pressed her chin against her chest, clearly uncomfortable. "They don't."

"That was when you were supposed to explain who you are then."

The woman's eyes grew even wider at the faux pas. "Forgive me: Lady Rinea of House Nelburg. I'm to be wed to Lord Berkut."

Berkut. That was the name of the man in black wasn't it? At the realization, Celica couldn't resist the taste of venom slowly working its way up her throat.

"Are you happy about your engagement?"

"Why shouldn't I be?"

"Considering my circumstances, it seems Rigelian princes have trouble finding willing brides." Celica laughed less out of actual amusement and more to enhance the awkward atmosphere. "Is he any good in bed?"

"Excuse me?!" Rinea wrinkled her nose in disgust.

"From my experience he seems like the type of man who likes it rough." Celica pointed at the bruise on her cheek. "He gave me this lovemark that last time we were together. How many has he decorated on your skin?"

Rinea clenched her fist, "Stop that."

"Stop what?"

"Stop talking about him like he is some kind of monster." Her words were fragile, delicate things, but there was an unexpected edge to them Celica hadn't foreseen coming from her. "You're that Zofian princess aren't you, the one who terrorized East Rigel? You should be glad you're not in prison for your crimes."

Celica scratched her brand. "You may be right, but you didn't say anything to prove he isn't one."

"He loves me, that should be reason enough," Rinea's gaze grew firm. "War is war. No matter how much I despise it, you can't judge a man's actions by it. I have nothing to offer a prince—my house is of no station—yet he chose me all the same. A monster wouldn't do that; they don't play with their food."

 _"I want to get to know you, Anthiese. I want to help you change the world."_

Celica bit her lip. She was getting less fun to toy with.

"Does he love you unconditionally or simply because you're indebted to him?"

"Berkut tells me he worships me—"

"Does he love you more than he loves war?" Celica clutched the skirts of her dress so hard she thought it would tear. "Would he choose you over it, or hurt you for the right price?"

Rinea looked to be on the verge of crying, and the cruel beast inside of Celica relished it.

 _Good. Sob your heart out until you have no more tears just like me._

"...I don't know...but I can't say I hold it against him," The edge in her voice harden into steel. "Unconditional is a lot to ask of someone; I'll take what affection I can get." She turned to face Celica, composure restored. "It's not like you're easy to love either."

That might have been the first brutal truth Celica had received in Rigel, and from that mouse no less. She was so stunned, by the time she considered forming a response, their tutor had returned, rambling breathlessly about how fortunate he was to have not missed anything. As annoying as he was, Celica let him talk so she could lick her wounds in peace.

 _It's not like I thought otherwise._

The lights began to dim as the music began to play, so Celica shifted her attention to the stage, hoping it would distract her.

"Laugh Oh Rigel for our foolish fool/who uncrosses stars and flips the social order upside down/for a princess who doesn't even know his name/Laugh as light becomes darkness/and man becomes woman/Laugh for Matvei Zhirov/as he is too foolish to laugh for himself."

The singing was pleasant, smooth and flowing in a way you could ignore the lyrics and just focus on the sound of the vocals themselves. Celica closed her eyes. It was tempting to allow herself to nod off, drift to and from sleep for no rhyme or reason with only the singing to guide her. How glorious would it be to live in that haze of semi-consciousness, as just a floating entity existing somewhere for no other reason than to exist?

Yet before Celica could reach that place, she was brought back down to the world of the living by a rough baritone.

When she opened her eyes, she couldn't believe what she was seeing at first. Truly she must have been mistaken. She blinked, hoping her vision would clear and the figure on stage would transform into just another singer. But the longer she stared the more familiar they grew.

On stage, dressed in a ridiculous costume, was the Emperor of Rigel.

To be fair, it wasn't as if he was prancing around with the other performers. His character sang with the utmost seriousness—only it was so intense it kept sending the audience into a fit of laughter.

This was the man who had ordered the attack on Zofia, who likely had sanctioned every aspect of her treatment here. For so long he had been a shadowy figure in her mind, more an ideal than a real person. Before her brain could short-circuit from the impossibility of it all, her tutor leaned in and whispered.

"It's a common tradition in Rigel. Lots of fun to see your higher ups make a fool of themselves for your sake."

Celica scanned the crowd. No one else shared her confusion. From noble to commoner, she found plenty of amused grins and warm smiles. Even the Deliverance, seated in the front, seemed to be enjoying themselves. For such a large theater, the atmosphere had turned cozy and welcoming. She had always envisioned Rigel as being a world of harsh coldness, but this was a level of amiability she had never really encountered in Zofia.

 _"We did not take your peace out of spite. It was to ensure peace for our people. For our families, our children, our wives."_

The metaphor was too apt to ignore. Even as she tried to catch up with the actual plot, it seemed as if the Emperor was playing the actual role of a father. And as much of a mockery this entire show was, its tenderness was something she had never found in her own personal life.

Soon she found more familiar faces taking the stages First general Ezekiel and other important military figures, then the man in black all smugness and swagger, and then finally the crown prince himself—smiling as bright as the sun with his dashing boyish charms.

Technically they were simply supposed to be the background assemble, providing nothing but comedy relief as the real singers handled the actual melodies, but it was impossible to focus on the main characters. This only ended up making the shenanigans and less than trained singing all the more endearing.

"Lovers this festival is for you/so do what you do best and love with all your heart/even is if is broken again and again/for love can only succeed if you are foolish and brave/and you know how to be one of those things."

A gust of wind filled the air with the unmistakable weight of magic, and the assemble took flight. The crowd shrieked with delight as they floated around the audience, delivering flowers to their loves.

When the man in black reached Rinea, placing a red camellia in her hair, it was hard to still view him as a monster. The fondness they shared for each other was undeniable. However she couldn't study them for long as she heard the breeze carry another lover to their seating.

Unlike the others, Alm was not so forward as to caress and flirt. Rather he simply extended a handful of purple hyacinths towards her, waiting for her reaction.

Not knowing what to do, Celica accepted them. The exchange was quick and chaste, but as their hands brushed against each other, there was such a jolt of energy it nearly knocked her out of her chair.

By the time she remembered where she was, Alm was gone, and the lead singer was cheerfully describing a murder that had taken place in-story.

Celica lifted the hyacinths towards her face.

They smelled just like home.

* * *

After their little cameo, Alm listened to the rest of opera with Father and Berkut backstage. It made sense, Matvei Zhirov was a show they had listened to dozens of times and it would be disruptive to rejoin the audience. Still Alm couldn't help but squirm and fidget in his seat.

The little time he had with Anthiese had not been enough for him to be able to understand her feelings. She had accepted his flowers of course, but with a composed politeness, she'd probably show anyone. What he truly wanted to know was what she did with them afterwards. If she had pinned them to her person as a sign of affection or discarded them the moment she was free.

 _Tell me if I can forgive myself yet._

As the opera came to an end and the performers took their bows, Father gestured for them to sneak out. Once they made it away from the show, Alm could barely contain his nervous energy anymore as he let out a sigh of relief.

"I'm going to retire for the night. It has been a stressful past few days." Father spoke as he removed the over-sized hat, the costume designers had insisted he wear. "Still I'm proud of your work, my boys."

"Thank you, your Majesty." Alm couldn't resist the grin that spread across his face.

Even Berkut always cool and unaffected by things seem to soften a bit from his approval. "Agree, your praise is worth more than gold."

Father rolled his eyes. "There's no need to elevate my word so. I simply speak the truth, and withheld congratulations are just as ineffective as false flatteries. This Zofia situation has been taxing on us all, yet you stepped up to fulfill your duties despite the difficulties."

Alm cringed, knowing exactly what difficulties he was referring to. However with the Deliverance agreeing to cease all fighting until the winter passed, this could be one of his only chances to appeal to him.

"If that is the case, then will you consider Jedah's offer?" It made his stomach sick to refer to Anthiese like that, but the situation was delicate even when referenced in such an indirect method.

Father paused at Alm's words—his facial expression completely still and stoic. Beside him he could feel the unease radiate off Berkut, but Alm tried his best to remain undeterred.

"You've always had to carry more than your fair share, my son," Father's voice grew low, as if that would stave off the brand's danger. "I didn't want this marriage to weigh you even further down."

"It doesn't," Alm quickly retorted. He knew doing so made him sound like a child, but the impulse was hard to fight. "I know it is a responsibility, but I want to bear it to its fullest. Princess Anthiese could be a valuable ally, but she needs to know she can trust us."

Father studied him further, but this time Alm didn't back down.

"I'm cautious because I don't want you to get hurt," He finally answered. "But you both are young. I remember being your age, wanting to solve problems elders just threw up their hands at. You may court her tonight, but promise me you won't let her lead you astray."

"I promise," His eagerness seemed to bleed into the very words themselves.

A ghost of a smile seemed to linger in the curve of Father's mouth. "Then I'll let you boys enjoy yourself. The night is just as young as you are." With that he left for his own quarters.

For a while, Alm could only stand there in shock. But then Berkut gave a friendly pat on the back in a less than friendly manner, and Alm remembered that by now most of the audience was probably leaving the opera themselves.

"Come on, you're probably taking Rinea out yourself aren't you?"

"I'm still deciding," Despite his flippant reply, he matched Alm's hurried stride. "The advantages of not having to require permission to see your lover. I've probably been around that mouthy honeytrap more than you have at this point."

Alm was in too good a mood to let his insult get him down. "Fortunately, her honey is my favorite kind."

Berkut shoved him with an amused snort, and Alm shoved them back, which led the two of them to repeat the process again and again until they made it to the royal box seats.

The two women were standing as if they were just about to leave. Rinea's tutor regarded them with a curious glance, but Berkut was the first to act.

"Rinea, my angel, I was hoping you would walk with me for a while. Emperor Rudolf had some thoughts about our wedding plans that should be discussed post haste."

Rinea blushed, her cheeks matching the flower that still remained in her hair. "Of course, milord."

"I suppose that is alright, but if you are to do so at this hour, then I insist that—wait a second, come back here!" Before her tutor had even finished talking, Berkut had already made off with her. The tutor gave chase, but knowing how these things usually went down, Berkut would probably have her in his bed before the tutor had any idea where to look for them. Berkut always sang his praises as Rinea's chaperone specifically for being so bad at his job.

Figuring this was the perfect chance to play hooky himself, Alm turned to regard Anthiese.

At her side, she still held the hyacinths. They were mussed, as if they had been worried between her hands for the whole show, but she had not thrown them away. He would take any form of care he could.

"Princess Anthiese," He bowed his head slightly before offering his arm. "Would you be willing to come with me as well?"

She regarded him with those red eyes of hers—a strange combination of danger and elegance that was completely unreadable. She always seemed ready to either snap or smile at any given moment, so when she placed a tentative touch to the crook of his arm, Alm breathed a sigh of relief.

"Did you like the opera? It's a popular comedy, although it probably has a higher body count than most Zofian works."

As he escorted her to his room, he felt as if his entire body had been transformed into a bundle of nerves. Their last night might have been one of the few interactions of theirs to end in a civil manner, but nothing in of itself had been solved. If they could just talk…he didn't know if he had any words that would ease her soul, but he felt truly there must be some out there that could fix things. So if he had to babble and make a fool of himself to get there, he'd do it.

 _You'd beg if it came to that, throw yourself at her mercy if it would drive those dreams from your sleep_

When they arrived at his room, he took the flowers from her hand and searched for a place to put them.

"I saw these in Zofia Castle's garden—where we first met. I thought you might appreciate them."

He turned around, hoping to coax a conversation out of her, only to find her undoing the lace of her bodice.

Immediately he swiveled back towards the flowers. "What are you doing!"

"Well what else am I supposed to think when my husband brings me to his room?"

Alm felt a blush run up his neck. She always had that effect on him—making everything sound so much dirtier once it was on her tongue. Still in spite of the implications of his request, he had held no dreams that she would throw herself at him and wish to be ravished. If sex was what he wanted, he would have taken it when the offer arose the night before. That wasn't who he was.

"I don't know, I just thought you shouldn't be treated like a prisoner. You should be allowed to sleep beside your husband—not hidden away from the rest of the world."

"I already know how you feel, but your words have no staying power." Alm could hear the sound of footsteps. "Why don't you finally show me what it means to "take care" of me."

Her breath ghosted over the back of his neck, and Alm started to feel himself unravel.

"Is that all our marriage is to you?" He gripped the side of the dresser lest his hands betray him. "Just some fun in bed devoid of any true connection?"

"Is the alternative any better? Two strangers exchanging niceties, pretending this other half of our relationship doesn't exist?" When she was this close to him, Alm couldn't help but smell her perfume—a dizzying combination of vanilla and jasmine that made it hard to concentrate.

"I don't want to force you—I'm not that kind of man—I want you to be comfort—"

"I _want_ you."

Silence. The bluntness of her words left him completely mute, as all he could was shudder at the response.

"I want to be happy like you all, feel wanted, loved, like I'm more than a liability or a villain." He felt the press of her forehead against his shoulder. "Show me that your mouth is good for more than empty promises and _take care_ of me."

Alm's grip tightened so as to make sure his legs didn't collapse right under him. What a farce this game they played was—as if he didn't want her so bad it drove him mad. No matter how much he trained, no matter how we tried to sweat it out of him, he still hungered for her. It wasn't fair. He was Duma's brand bearer, yet she made him weak. A part of himself couldn't help but hate her for it.

And the other part of himself was disgusted to feel that way. He wasn't worthy enough to grace her shadow while he entertained such vile thoughts. He didn't want to make her tremble anymore.

Perhaps Jedah, for all his failings had been right about one thing: that a purification was needed. Only he was the sinful one.

"I'm so tired of fighting. I never wanted to in the first place." Anthiese voice was small and almost childlike. "You'd never understand, but there is a peace in surrender. Of giving up control."

"Believe me, my dear," Alm's words came out in a shaky breath. "I understand completely."

"Would you take care of me as well?"

* * *

It was only fitting that after his performance, she returned the favor.

She made her debut as if she was a natural. Strutting out from behind his dressing screen as if she demanded the entire world to bow before her. The only garment of clothing she wore was a dress shirt of his—although even that was scarcely much use. Its hem only stopped about halfway down the curve of her ass, and it had been left open to frame her cleavage without baring her breasts fully.

If looks could kill, she would have stopped his heart.

 _"What are some of your wildest fantasies?"_ She had asked, so unknowing and innocent. The mere question flooded his mind with countless scenarios: his mouth pressed against her sex as she sat on Father's throne, Anthiese piercing his backside with a makeshift phallus of her own.

But those wouldn't punish him as he rightly deserved.

She took her time approaching him, appraising nearly every inch of his body. He was still fully clothed, yet he felt like the indecent one. Anthiese smirked as she straddled his body, resting right below his groin.

"Well, well, well, look at what fell into my web today." Slowly she traced his shoulders, moving up towards his arms, until she finally reached the bed-sheets that tied his wrist to his bed's headboard. "Poor thing. I should let you go, but you're so cute I could just eat you up." She nuzzled the crook of his neck as her hands continued to wander and press feather-light touches to his body.

"...Re-release me," His voice was already rough with arousal from the situation, making the demand sound even more pitiful than they knew it would be.

"You're not going to get away that easily," There was singsong quality to her teasing as she nipped his earlobe. "Earn your freedom by pleasing me."

With that she plundered his mouth in a devouring kiss. It seemed as if she was determined to taste every inch of it, not breaking away until she nearly reached the base of his throat. When she pulled away, her hair was tousled and her eyes alight with a fire.

"Gods let me touch you," Alm breathed, hardly aware he was speaking.

"A prince should have better manners than that."

"Pl-please."

Anthiese eyed him as a catlike grin spread across her face. "No."

They continued on like that, Anthiese taking whatever she pleased, whether it was a quick grope of his ass or a prolonged bite to his collarbone. The best he could do was writhe beneath her uselessly, grinding against her thighs for at least any form of friction. When she finally paid attention to his cock, roll her hips against him in return, he couldn't hold back his moans anymore.

"Anthiese, please, please—"

"You're so chatty, you should know I hate men like that." She traced the bottom on his lip. Instinctively he flicked his tongue out to lick her finger.

"So forward too!" She pulled away, and Alm couldn't help but whine at the loss of contact. "Tell you what, I might have a way to keep you from complaining too much."

She pressed her breasts against his face. It was a deliciously suffocating experience as he lapped at them, wanting to lavish her in any way. Without his hands, he had to nose through her dress shirt like an animal just to reach her nipples.

He had never felt so great.

 _"Is this really what you want?"_ It had been an understandable reaction considering the oddness of his request, yet Alm still flushed at the reminder of what he had just admitted.

 _"Yes,"_ He had gulped. _"If you truly want to be desired, I don't think I'll want you any more than when I can't have you."_

There was a thrill in being so thoroughly possessed. Of letting go control and allowing yourself to be at someone's mercy. If anyone knew the crown prince of Rigel could be rendered powerless, they'd lose all respect for him, but the danger only added to the high of his pleasure.

Alm couldn't help but be grateful they at least shared a similar enough indulgence.

When his erection brushed up against Anthiese this time, she wasted no time reacting. Instantly, she pulled him by the roots of his hair.

"What are you going to do about that now," Her voice had grown just as hoarse as his. "Rude to interrupt a girl while she's having fun."

"Please, Anthiese, I don't know how I can't wait—"

"Keep begging, I like it."

"Anthiese no one turns my life upside down like you do, nothing makes any sense when you are around, but I don't know how to stop thinking about you, you have the most beautiful smile I've ever seen and, and—" He was babbling for real now, but he couldn't stop himself. "—you scare me sometimes, I don't know what I'll do to you or what you'll do to me, but I know I can never get you out of my head."

Anthiese was quiet. He couldn't figure out why in his lust-driven stupor until he felt her touch on the cool skin of his calf. Oh she must have removed his pants and small-clothes for him, how kind of her. But then slowly her touch drifted to thread and steel.

Alm froze. He had forgotten about the knife on his person. It was a safety precaution he was used to wearing so much sometimes it felt unusual to lack its weight. It was hardly a surprise it had slipped his mind.

What was, was Anthiese taking it for herself.

Those indecipherable red eyes were studying him once more. As she steadily pressed it against his neck, Alm forgot how to breathe. Panic clouded his mind; they never discussed a way to stop this scenario mid session.

 _Go ahead and do it, if you're going to do it._ A quiet voice inside him spoke. _If you failed her too, then what good are you as a brand bearer?_

Instead of slicing through his windpipe though, Anthiese chastely kissed his lips.

Then her hand was on his cock, and the world shrank down to just their bodies.

It was a double hell: the addicting rhythm her strokes fell into and her mouth against his. If the danger before had aroused him, the weight of a real threat set his entire body aflame. Every now and then, she would twist his length just right, or lean back as she kissed him, goading him to give chase, yet he couldn't react freely unless he nicked himself. In the moment, he couldn't have asked for more, but as they continued, genuine fear started to taint that pleasure.

"Anthiese," Alm whimpered. "I'm close."

"I know what I'm doing," She paused her ministrations to wipe the sweat from her brow.

"Anthiese—"

"Quiet."

"Anthiese, I'm—" White blinded his vision as he reached his climax, sending shivers throughout his entire body.

When his vision cleared, he found his head still attached to the rest of his body, and Anthiese cutting him free from his restraints.

Finally free, he cradled her against his body. The two of them rocked back and forth as he descended down from his climb.

"...do I need to satisfy you too?" He whispered against her hairline as he pressed soft kisses to her temple.

"It's alright, just think of it as repayment for last time." Despite her words, Anthiese's face was flush and content. When she looked at him like that, there was no way she could possible hate him. The revelation combined with the effects of the afterglow to provide an otherworldly relief. He wasn't a bad guy. He wasn't evil.

"We're going to fix things around here." Alm muttered. "When Father meets you, he'll start to like you. We'll find a way to make everyone get along. We'll get to finally court like a proper couple should."

"Shhhhh," Anthiese pressed a finger to his lips. "We can sort all that out tomorrow."

"Stay with me," He couldn't stop his voice from cracking. Even after such intimacy, the loneliness seemed ready to swallow him whole. "I've never gotten to see you wake up."

"I will," She kissed his eyelids. "Now sleep."

And so he did.

* * *

Celica closed her eyes as she listened to him breathe. She waited until she was sure he was asleep and then waited an extra fifteen minutes just to be safe.

Then she opened her eyes.

She had never seen him asleep before, even when they shared a tent on their honeymoon. When he was like this it was truly impossible to ignore his age and the fact he was scarcely an adult just like her.

Carefully, she crawled out from the covers and dressed in the shirt Alm had chosen for her and a pair of his trousers.

Celica peeked through the slit under the door. No feet meant no guards at the moment. There was no telling how long that would be true.

She turned back to look at Alm, one last time. It seemed they were both full of empty promises.

Celica opened the door and slipped out.

* * *

 **A.N. Got a little knifeplay and bondage that really doesn't follow the rules of BDSM like it should**

 **This was a chapter I was really excited for, Rinea's appearance, Alm and Celica's desperate grasping for something they both lack, and her choice at the end, I'm so glad I got to polish this some extra before I went back to school, if you're having fun feel free to check out what those flowers symbolize**

 **Also I got a curious cat account (I'm at /seasaltmemories), which is basically a Q &A thing where you can anonymously ask me questions, I wanted to do something for y'all bc of the loyal support of this fic, so I might hold a specific event just for PLBT, feel free to ask about the story or anything else you would want to know about me, I'll keep you posted on any sort of plans like that in the next chapter's notes**


	10. Suffering

**A.N. TWs at the end like always if you feel you would like them**

* * *

Rigel Castle was quiet. After an exciting night of song and dance, it seemed no one had the energy to return back to the land of the living just yet. Few guards remained at their posts, and the ones that did were often, sleeping, drunk, or both. It was a blessing Celica was thankful for, but it did nothing to alleviate her anxiety.

The only things left fueling her plans were desperation and determination. Neither logic nor well-constructed strategies meant anything, anymore. Tonight might be her last chance at freedom, and if she wasted it and got caught then returning to the dungeon might be the least of her worries.

 _Earth Mother, guide me please. Don't let my escape me in vain._

Just then, Celica heard the sound of clear, hurried footsteps. Frantically, she scanned her surroundings for a place to hide. Like the rest of the Rigel Castle, there was a restrained formality that offered little decoration. The only break in its strict design was a large door that laid at the end of the hallway. It made the hair on her body stand on end, but there was no time for second thoughts. As quickly and carefully as she could, she cracked open the door and slide herself inside.

Just as she rested her back against the door, she heard the sound of voices, and like that ever muscle in her body froze.

"Disgraceful!" A low voice scoffed. "Absolutely disgraceful to see Rigelian soldiers like this. Doubt we'll be able to find enough to form a half-sober platoon."

"Aren't you being a little harsh, sir? After the last few days, they've earned their relaxation."

"They're not done yet though."

"Excuse me? I thought the Deliverance had already ridden out."

"Exactly. We're not done dealing with them yet." At the news, Celica's eyes widened in fear. "Like I said, get me the least drunk men you can. We ride out at dawn."

Something like a scream curled in the back of her throat. Not just because of the footsteps growing louder and louder, almost upon her, nor the bitter taste of betrayal on her tongue, but because of all that had happened since the Rigelians first step foot into Zofia-since this terrible marriage bound her to them in the first place.

 _I will never go back to that dungeon._ Magic crackled at her fingertips. _We all will die before that happens._

But soon the footsteps grew soft again, then completely silent. She was completely alone with nothing but her burning hatred as company.

Before she could dwell on it much longer, she notice that the prickling sensation had not gone away. In fact as Celica examined herself, she found the pain had all concentrated around her brand.

For the first time, she noticed her surroundings were much different now. This part of Rigel Castle felt like neither like its brutal dungeons nor its deceptive residential wings. It seemed...older, less another man-made structure and more as if it had emerged from the earth itself.

A flight of stairs descended before her, yet as she peered over the edge, she could see no bottom. It just extended deeper and deeper into the cave. Every instinct in her body warned against what might wait at the bottom, but her brand seemed to sting even more the closer she got.

What did such a phenomenon mean, Celica couldn't say. But she wanted to it mean something. That was the only thing she was certain of anymore.

And so she mouthed another her prayer to herself as she ventured down.

Time seemed to elongate, seconds taking minutes to pass. The steeper the stairs grew, the more the brand burned her skin. Soon both facts were all that she was focusing on. What if in reality she was just falling into a giant pit? She usually wasn't one to doubt her perception so much, but the pain seemed to twist and bend her sight. When she made it to the bottom would she find her limbs broken and mangled for her reckless endeavor?

Just when she was sure the pain in her palm would grow overwhelming, when her courage would finally give way and she'd scramble back to Alm's room to forget about the attack on the Deliverance and play the good Rigelian wife, she came across a strange cell of sorts.

In the middle of it sat a great skeleton of a dragon with a sword piercing its skull.

"Oh Mila..." Celica murmured to herself.

"You called?"

It took all of her willpower not to shriek as she moved closer to find another dragon lying just out of her initial line of vision. Brown-dried blood stained its scales while feathery wings curled around its body. It had been centuries since she had assumed that form, but could it really be?

"Earth Mother!" Celica's voice cracked with emotion. Her arm seemed to move with a mind of its own, straining to touch her, yet what little distance she could reach through the iron bars wasn't enough.

"I'm here, child." She sighed. "It pains me I can't take a shape you are more comfortable with, but it really is me."

After weeks of refusing to cry, it was like the floodgates opened. Celica found herself sobbing like a child again as she collapsed to the floor. There was so much she wanted to say, it all swirled together into a mess of tears. Had Mila heard all the prayers she had offered up, knew the pain and humiliation she had endured in her name? Dragon or no, she wanted to be there with her, pressed against her scales as she babbled away every hidden secret she had carried since the fire.

But no matter how close she was to true peace, Celica knew she couldn't fall apart. Not yet. Slowly, she rose so that she could sink into a proper bow.

"I traversed all of Valentia in search of you, Earth Mother. How may I serve you?"

"You may rise, Anthiese." It felt strange to hear Mila address her. Outside of the disaster of a honeymoon, she had only visited her once or twice. Her purpose had always been to stand as her father's daughter rather than an individual, to be seen and not heard as the pageantry and rituals took place before her eyes. "My, you look so much like Liprica now. You've blossomed into such a fine lady."

Celica stiffened. Sometimes even she forgot about her mother's life before becoming just another wife of her father's. She had been a sacred and well-respected priestess at Mila's Temple. To directly serve their goddess was an honor only few ever received. She should have held that position until the day she died.

Yet after her father's men had kidnapped her in the middle of the night, Mila hadn't remarked on the situation at all.

"Her sacrifice was a tragedy I grieve to this day," Mila closed her eyes and paused as she took a labored breath. "But without it, I couldn't have claimed you as mine."

"Claimed me?"

"Yes," With one word it was like a spark had been ignited her eyes. "Neither Duma nor I knew the exact details, but we shared our blood with you humans, for a reason. One day our bloodline would return to save us from our darkest days."

It was difficult to process such news, but something deep inside of Celica accepted it without question. Her pain and suffering had been for a reason. She wasn't a failure. Her goddess needed her, specifically. Despite the rush though, she tried to remain calm and level-headed.

"What did they do to you, Earth Mother?" Her gaze drifted back to dragon skeleton with the sword. "Is that-"

"I'll explain everything to the best of my abilities." Mila tilted her head towards the other dragon. "That is, indeed, my brother, and that is Falchion. It was a secret weapon he held, back during our quarreling days. If he died against me, then one of his branded could return the favor and avenge him. Only it seems the current emperor has gone mad and fancied himself a god greater than Duma. I don't know what spurred this betrayal, but I pity my brother all the same."

"What about the prince?" She found herself interrupting Mila by accident. "Forgive me, but I perceived that he was the one to harm you."

"He did." Something like laughter bubbled up from her fangs, but it was as if her body couldn't form the right sounds. "Poor boy has been twisted from his birth to hate his master and true destiny. He used Duma's hair and teeth to create a special net to ensnare me. Can you imagine such blasphemy?"

It was only with that information, Celica finally noticed the wires extending from Mila's body. They were thin, only visible when they caught the light. Usually such trifling things would be easily ignored by a goddess. It had to be something about coming from Duma that did this.

"Why haven't they killed you too? What twisted purpose would they torture you for?" It felt like she was on the verge of something, like she was slowly putting together a puzzle and just needed a few more pieces, but she still couldn't quite tell what the picture was.

There was that not-laugh again. Was she trying to smile? Mila was showing teeth, but there was little mirth in the action. "My dear brother isn't dead. He almost is, but it seems sentiment got in the way at the last minute. Or spite, who can tell? But this is where you can come in and save me." Mila strained to lean forward, yet could only move a few centimeters. "You are branded. If in his dying breath he gives you permission to wield Falchion, you could cut me free. Nothing else can break these ties. You're my only hope, Anthiese."

The weight of her gaze laid heavy on Celica's chest. As honorable as such a role was, the responsibility was beginning to drown out her previous elation. She was so tired. She didn't know how many more burdens she could carry before her body gave way.

"Are you sure this is the only choice, I don't what would make Duma trust me now when I've-"

"Don't question my judgment!" Her sudden roar made Celica flinch. "I apologize," Quickly Mila lowered her voice. "But you do know what a brand means?" There was that spark again. "Your life is mine. I nursed your ancestors for centuries. As the product of their prosperity, you have no right to refuse me now." This time, Celica could tell she was indeed trying to smile, although the expression was terrifying on her face. "I believe in you."

Celica took a deep breath. Mila was right. How selfish could she be to abandon her country and people right at the last minute? If that ambush on the Deliverance was really going to happen, she couldn't waste anymore time dallying about.

"I'll do it." She bowed deep and low to the ground. "I won't let you down."

After examining the cell, soon, she had found an entrance. Considering Mila was trapped in her dragon form, it seemed they hadn't bother to lock a small human-sized door on the other side. When she entered, the size of both dragons took her aback, yet Mila continued to give that fanged grin in encouragement.

"Take Falchion. Then all will be made clear to you."

As Celica took hold of Falchion, she didn't know what she expected. Perhaps more pain, or holy fire damning her for touching another god's sacred weapon.

Well she didn't know when she closed her eyes, but when she opened them instead she found a tall man standing before her.

He was dressed in Rigelian armor, long green hair done back in a ponytail. Despite lacking any similar facial features to his sister, somehow she recognized him immediately.

"Duma," Celica whispered. Then realizing her error, she tried to bow while still holding on to Falchion, although of course she couldn't bow as deeply as she had for Mila, as that would be disloyal to her, yet for some reason she couldn't see Mila nor Falchion anymore where had they-

"Peace, child." His deep voice steadied her thoughts.

"War Father," Celica ducked her head. "I petition you on the behalf of my own patron. Please excuse any sacrilege I might have committed against your Faithful and put aside any old grudges because the only way I can-"

"I said peace, child." This time there was an edge to his voice. "Although I am in this decaying state, I still have not lost my hearing. I know my sister's schemes. The only thing I remain ignorant of, is if you are worthy of my judgment or not."

It took all her willpower to stay standing tall, to keep looking him in the eyes. She didn't know what was more likely to happen once her nerve gave out, if she would cry or strike him.

"You have the bearings of a warrior, child of peace. That's not something I've seen in many of my kings, much less a pet spoiled on milk and honey."

"Forgive me War Father," Before she could stop herself, the words were already slipping past her tongue. "But I don't recall ever being given milk and honey."

Red eyes set on her, and for a moment, Celica was certain she'd be vaporized any second. Instead, Duma tilted his head.

"Elaborate."

"I don't know what you want to hear, but Jedah talked as if you loved suffering. I've had enough suffering just to get to where I am standing now. I don't wish to suffer more simply for your entertainment." Alm had been the first to insist that pretty lies had no place in Rigel. Even if that had proven to be a pretty lie in of itself, she wanted to see how their god would fare against a brutal truth.

Duma just continued to study her. "Tell me, child of peace. Do you hate me?"

The question took her aback. "I respected you. Even if Mila guarded Zofia, without you, Valentia would have never survived. I'm grateful for that."

"Why do you use the past tense?"

"Because when I was forced to pray to you until my voice went hoarse, when my torturers hurt me in your name, I truly did loathe you. Even if you never wanted any of that to happen to me, I can't help but carry that pain with me when I think of you now. I don't know which one will win out after this is over."

"You're mistaken to believe hate swallows every other emotion." Slowly he closed the distance between them. "There's a part of me that still hates my sister, yet the only reason I've refused to die yet is in hopes that she might be spared." As large as he was next to her, there was something in the curve of his lip that seemed to bring him down to her level. "Love and hate are a masochistic pair of dancers, yet they continue twirling around one another all the same."

Something uncomfortable swirled in the pits of her stomach. She did her best to push it down. "So did I fail your judgment?"

"I wanted Prince Albein to wield Falchion so badly." Duma sighed. "He reminded me so much of Rigel. I thought we might take all of Valentia together. Maybe even dethrone Naga and her precious people." Whatever vulnerability that had existed before was gone now, replaced with a proud strength that could snap her like a twig if he so pleased. "But I supposed his soul partner shall do. I see fire in your eyes, child of peace. You know how to do what is necessary." Gently he placed his hand on top of her head.

"I'm putting a lot of trust in you. Once Falchion is unsealed, there will be no going back. Promise me you'll save my sister."

"I will." Celica clasped her hands and brought them to her lips. "I swear on my life."

"No matter what she says." The last part startled her, and her confusion must have shown on her face. "I'm afraid I don't have enough time to explain. Still I always believe even the worst suffering can bring wisdom. I hope it may guide you well." He turned around, looking at a horizon that didn't exist. "Is it alright if I close my eyes now? I used to be too stubborn to ever accept peace. Perhaps this old fool still has time to learn."

In an explosion of light, Duma's image dispersed. When Celica found herself opening her eyes again, Falchion was free and the skeleton gone.

"I'll pray for you, War Father." Celica found herself whispering. "I'll pray that you learn peace."

"Good work Anthiese." Mila's voice was high and tinny, breaking Celica from her musing. "Now just cut the wires and then everything will be fixed."

The weight of the sword felt heavier than it should. As she dragged it toward Mila, she tried to assess Duma's words. Did he believe Mila to have lost all hope? Or perhaps he worried that she might unknowingly drag her own brand bearer into another trap.

"Wait," Celica slowed to a stop. "Before we start this, there is something you have to know. I have soldiers who could be walking into a trap-"

"None of that will matter once I'm free!" Mila groaned. "Please you'll understand soon."

It seemed in this panicked state, there was little reasoning with her. It was selfish of her to not consider how Mila's pain might cloud her mind just as it had clouded her own in the dungeon. There seemed to be one only one way to dispel the chaos. With a sigh, Celica readied her blade.

 _Once Mila is free, everything will be fixed._

With a single swing, Celica cut the wires embedded in Mila.

In an instant, she stood on her hindquarters, form shifting rapidly between her full draconic size and a woman of feathers and scales. Every time Celica's eyes got used to one version, Mila snapped back to a different one, sometimes even ending up stuck in a grotesque half-form. It was only once her mind gave up on processing this did she finally register the guttral scream that remained just as pained and tortured no matter what.

"Oh Earth Mother," Celica whimpered, not sure if she was calling out to the being in front of her anymore.

"No...I-I expected...this," Mila croaked out between cries. "I apologize for my deceit."

A great clawed foot crashed into Celica's chest as Mila straddled her. Her claws tore through her shirt with ease and laid readied above her skin to do the same thing.

"Mila please, I didn't mean to hurt you!" She pushed uselessly against her leg, unable to escape its weight. "I'm sorry, please forgive me!"

"Your soul is so bright...it's such a beautiful thing," Her voice was more gentle than ever, sounding scarily human-like now. "Just one bite won't hurt," Her right foot transformed into a human hand, and it gripped Celica's chin. "Quit squirming and remember your vows, Liprica."

What followed next shouldn't have occurred. Falchion had been knocked from her hands and laid out of reach. And even without the lack of touch, enchanted weapons always took a while to master. Arts couldn't be called from them without intense practice. Yet once Mila grabbed her, Celica felt as if her bones had been turned to gunpowder.

And well Duma had said the fire had been there from the start.

An inferno of red and gold consumed them both. Mila's cries, their brilliant blaze, it was all drowned out by the blood boiling in her veins. The part of herself aware of what was happening wondered if this is what her siblings had felt in the villa, if they had now bestowed on her combined pain of their deaths as they had slowly burned to ash. Or maybe it wasn't ghosts, but fate that had paid her a visit. Maybe all the times she should have died had now converged to make sure she couldn't slip away this time.

The rest of her could only weep in fear.

As quickly as the flame had appeared, it died out soon after. Celica struggled to remain conscious, but darkness blurred her vision. The only thing her eyes could focus on was Mila, now charred and burned as she stumbled back. Yet as she regained her footing, she took off running towards her.

 _Oh this is it_

The thought came to her with sparkling clarity. Killed by her own goddess, how crueler could the universe get?

Yet right as Mila was about to trample her, she leaped and crashed through the cell bars. A roar filled the tunnels and once it faded away, equal parts dread and relief flooded her body. Soon she could tell her vision would darken completely.

 _Seems I'm still the princess who refuses to die..._

 _I guess even I don't deserve such kindness._

* * *

The first thing destiny took from Alm was his dignity.

A servant had barged into his room, and in his half asleep state he had cared little to listen to her. Rather he had frantically pulled at his covers to try and maintain some degree of modesty for him and Anthiese.

But as he reached for her, all he found was empty space.

While stunned, the servant had dragged him out at bed. She was an older matron who between frantic cries scoffed at his bashfulness. Rather than noticing his indecency at all, she kept yelling about a giant beast ravaging the halls.

In an instant, Alm became completely awake.

He sent the servant in search of his sword and armor as he dressed himself, mind whirling with worries. There was so much to consider, where to find Father, if the Duma wires had given way, and if so, would it be worth it to try and pry Falchion out of Duma's skull for the umpteenth time. But one thought concerned him above all else.

 _She's not here. She said she'd stay here._

His first instinct had been to run up to Father's bedroom, but by the time he made it there, he was nowhere to be found. Anxiety and fear gripped his being. He searched for a servant or guard to guide him, but everyone he talked to proved to be just as agitated and confused as him. Would Berkut be any help? Or would there just be another naked, surprised prince to have to explain everything all over again to? Gods, where had Anthiese gone?

There were so many questions, so many possible answers he didn't want to face. He couldn't tell if it was a blessing or a curse when a rumbling shook the castle, jostling him from his thoughts. Before he could regain his footing, there was a crash, and a soldier was thrown through a nearby window.

"What's going on? Can you report on the current situation?" His first instinct was to help the soldier up, but on closer expectation he found her legs broken, bloody things.

"Monster..." The soldier muttered as she clung to his breastplate. "You have to help the Emperor, he's-" Her words descended into an unintelligible mess of groans. As much as her state pained him, he couldn't help but drop her at the revelation.

For a split second, he almost prayed.

Instead though, he rushed out onto the ramparts the soldier had been thrown from. The night was still dark, with only a few torches to light the way. But for his lack of sight, the sounds and smells illuminated enough. There a low, constant moan, humming from station to station. With each source a disgusting mixture of blood and piss tainted the air. While Alm was no stranger to the battlefield, this wasn't anything so honorable. This was a massacre.

 _Don't look at them, find Father_

He ran down its length, trying not to focus on the bodies the light settled on, trying not to listen to their calls for help. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry-" Maybe that was all he was good for anymore: useless apologies that were uttered too late. None of his words had ever been good enough for Anthiese, why did he thing they would do him any good as hurried whispers? At this point he felt as he was no longer himself anymore, but some puppet on a string desperately trying to remember his dance. Gods, he had to do something. He was the brand bearer, it didn't matter who started the fire, if the world burned, it only do so because of his failure to stop it.

 _They have to be alive, they have to be alive, please take me if you must, but they have to be-_

Both his thoughts and steps came to a crashing halt once he reached the far bastion. In the darkness it was difficult to make sense of it all, but there was something _almost_ in the shape of Mila. It was the right size, bearing both feathers and scales, but something in his mind couldn't put all the details quite together. He had already seen her draconic form, already faced down the goddess and her greatest power, yet something about _this_ terrified him to the core of his being.

The earlier rumbling crystallized into something like words as she bent towards the soldier pinned beneath her.

"Heretic, blasphemous rat, wicked man, rotting in my shit is too good a fate for you, you don't deserve to wear my brother's brand-"

"No!" The cry came from somewhere young and foolish inside of him. At the interruption, the dragon turned to reveal a beautiful woman's face stained with blood. Her movement allowed a beam of moonlight to slip through and confirm the worse of his fears.

This time even just focusing on the details couldn't save him from the truth. Even if he could have somehow missed the emperor's lance which laid still clutched in his hands, if he brilliant red and gold armor wasn't a give-away, if the entire face had been smashed in and not only halfway where he could still fear like never before on Father's face-

His body was in motion before he could realize it, sword poised to hit not the most lethal locations, but the most painful ones. Yet with each swing, she deflected the blow with hardened scales lined against her legs.

"My, my, you need to save your breathe boy," It was only then Alm realized he was screaming, no roaring as if he was a wild beast himself. Yet such taunts only made him grow louder and his lunges more frantic.

"I'm trying to do you a service!" She laughed. "While you couldn't help your upbringing, your pain will be a long, (delicious) experience." Despite her crowing, she stumbled at those words. Alm wasted no time. In one swift motion he raised his sword-

-and just missed her as jumped off the bastion and flew away.

For a minute, Alm could only stare at her slowly fading figure and seethe in his rage. He wanted to transcend his bones and flesh, become a force of nature with no higher purpose in his life than to destroy. But as he lost sight of Mila, the grief and pain became all there was left of him.

Before he figured it would consumed him completely, he approached Father's corpse. There was little that would make such a grisly sight palatable, but he did his best to straighten his armor, to place his crown back upon his head. He did his best to fight against the tide of regrets. It was a warrior's death. He had protected his country until his last breath. Better to mean something than to just waste away.

But it didn't stop Alm from wishing more than anything that he had at least gotten to be there with him when he died, to have more memories of the end than a mangled corpse.

"Father, what am I supposed to do now?"

The only answer he received was his own chocked sobs.

* * *

 **A.N. Lot's more violence in this, while I don't spell a whole lot out, there is still lots of blood and pain**

 **Which was similar to the writing process for this lol, I had a rough semester, plus some outside projects, which made what I knew would be a difficult chapter even more of a challenge, sorry if this feels thin content-wise, but there is a lot going on with lore and action so I figured it would be better to stop obsessively editing it and to just get it out before Three Houses takes up a lot of my free time**

 **The plot of Echoes has finally come to terroize the PLBT!cast, just when a stable status quo seemed in sight, now both of them must handle the consequences of their choices**


End file.
